Honey Dipped Words

Overly apologetic. I'm devastated by anything and everything. This is for my mental health.

[vanish]

[hipsandhaws-blog]

18th of September 2015

I had a nightmare. It didn’t happen in the middle of the night where the darkness hides your secrets and fears; where your demons can play with your heart without being seen. It happened in a bedroom lit by streaks of sunlight. It happened in midday, the sky was blue and the clouds were white as cotton and it was almost as if the sun was mocking my sweaty palms and tear stained cheeks. I didn’t scream, nor did my heart race. I just cried, leaving two stains, one on my pillow that would soon vanish, and the other was created long ago. In this dream my mother had appeared, and she looked into my eyes, smiled, then turned away without recognition; not purposefully nor maliciously, but because she didn’t even realize it was me. 

I look like her, I’m half of her, but a long time ago she decided to let me go, and she kept her promise. She chose the blunt between her fingers and the liquor stained kisses of a man she ran to in the middle of the night over us. When she appeared her dark eyes were full of happiness and life, and I realized that that light was capable of existing without me. She allowed her daughter to live a life without her, where a mothers touch would never be known, and she would never witness my successes and defeats in life. Unfortunately, a hug and a kiss could never make me feel better about being unwanted. She was fine without me, she wasn’t devastated, nor was she wilting. She didn’t need me. She doesn’t need me, nor will she ever. So, in this bright light where my demons see to thrive, I fear, that I have been forgotten and always will be. 

[bleed-well-poison-girl]

[mycoffeeblogging]

[hipsandhaws-blog]

I have thought about suicide- she’s a former flame of mine. She’s a fickle thing, it seems; she’s afraid of commitment. She’s a tease, she holds me in her arms and leaves me with broken hearts, new scars, purple throats and vomit stained sweaters. But she keeps coming back and she strokes my furious cheeks and tells me she loves me. I want to be loved so badly, so desperately that I almost heed her call to end the agony. I think about her all the time, but she’s a sweet voiced siren and as much as I want to swim in the depths of the great abyss; I know that all mermaids end up drowning.