Beautiful. Beautiful you..maybe me. I feel your pain and embrace my own..making me cry sometimes at night...I have many thoughts that linger and sometimes torment me when I should be resting.
So I 'wake' in the morning with the same memories that I left at daybreak.
Coffee wakes my mind for the powers that demand.
I play the game and do it well....keeping my pain where it can sleep when I cannot.
I am a living lie.
Working, loving, creating...but denying what lies underneath.
Until.
Until it resurfaces. There it is. It cannot be ignored or supressed ~ ir demands attention so it can groan and cry and grip your soul like it has wanted all along.
There it is.
I find music to dampen the sounds, or I succumb to it and bleed.
Music brings no shame ~ and it plays on and on without judging.
I don't think I could have summised your story, Katy, more concisely/simplistically myself...
“The good things don’t always soften the bad, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”
“Nobody important? Blimey, that’s amazing. Do you know, in nine hundred years of time and space I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important before.”
“If it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”
“The good things don’t always soften the bad, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”
“Nobody important? Blimey, that’s amazing. Do you know, in nine hundred years of time and space I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important before.”
“If it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”
Life went on in this fashion day after day, week after week. I attended the pupil referral unit, sort solace within the walls of the centre. I slipped up, picked myself up and tried again. I was betrayed in love and found hope and care in the arms of another, and gradually we began to build something wonderful, tentative and new, hand in hand, the caramel and the cream melding together.
Despite the positives in my life at this time however, the shadow of abuse, victim hood and family betrayal lingered over every aspect of my life so that at times a pain would catch in my throat, bubbling up and bursting forth, making it hard to breathe. My wounded heart beat hard for my family but was too full of wounded pride to concede the differences, forgive and make amends.
The biggest victim in this was my grandmother, who having lost her husband, found, having refused to state that she believed me, that she had also lost her only granddaughter. I gutted my room of any memory of her, and other family members who had refused to stand by me, filled the gaps with other things, memories of friends and pictures and presents. Despite my efforts, I could still see the voids where my family should have been. Gutting a room does not get rid of the ghosts, no matter how hard you try.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
