Total emotional shutdown...I feel like I am falling apart...It hurts so bad and it is so debilitating that my emotional functions automatically stop working and I ice over so that I can function properly...but I hardly am...my face mirrors the sadness inside...I know it, my feet drag, my posture is not good, and my voice is light and quiet...I hardly choked down breakfast this morning...I have to keep forcing myself to eat because I am hungry and my stomach begs for food...So I eat...
I fell down...I am in a hole...I peeked out...unfamiliar surroundings...I ran so far...I am so lost...I have been in this hole for a long time now...I keep trying to get out...and I think I have, but I just can't...not on my own...but there is no one to help me out...no one to help lift me out of the hole and help me make my way back to God...nobody...nobody...
Well, yesterday my dad offered to let me go see ROTK...He couldn't go but he was willing to drop my sister, my brother, and me off at the theater. I have a cell...I could call him when the movie was over...but I started having panic attacks about going to the movie theater by myself...well more as the adult in charge...I can go to the movie theater if I have peers with me and no adult...heck, I could go by myself...but going and being the sole adult in charge of my brother and sister...that gives me panic attacks...I don't know why...Maybe my grandfather will take us to see it tomorrow...although I think we might have a birthday party to go to...my uncle and his girlfriend have a baby...she turned a year old yesterday...so they are having her party tomorrow...I don't think I look forward to going...*sigh*
Didn't sleep terribly well last night... Got to bed at 11:00, got to sleep by 11:30, woke up at 3:30 or 4:00, couldn't get back to sleep until 6:30, then woke up again at 9:40...yep...I might be tired...I haven't decided yet...
But during that long stretch between 3:30 and 6:30, I decided to be productive...at about 5:45 I lay gazing at my poetry notebook by my bed side table...I thought about writing a poem...I was in emotional shutdown so I wasn't sure if I really could write anything...I thought a few moments and sprung an idea...I could write a poem based on my metaphor about the girl with the teddy bear...so I did, it is a lot more depressing and hopeless than most of my poems...but I didn't want a false hope and manufactured truth at the end...I didn't want to pump out a happy ending...I don't have one...I don't have any hope...This poem portrays my feelings best I possibly can...and again, I have no hope, so I had none to infuse a pleasant ending...hope you still enjoy it...
Rain is pouring down,
But her nightgown�s wet with blood.
Rivulets pouring down her cheeks,
But they are not rain or mud.
She fashioned the leering gun,
With her plastic happiness.
Then loaded her resplendent toy,
With clandestine bitterness.
She administered bullet holes,
Gushing blood and pain.
Scattered souls with best intentions,
Lay around her battered frame.
Trudging down a highway,
A figure of despair,
Gun toting infant,
Clutching a teddy bear.
Rain is pouring down,
But her nightgown�s wet with blood.
Rivulets pouring down her cheeks,
But they are not rain or mud.
Fearful paranoia,
Beset her addled head.
Demons were her best friends,
Spinning lies for her to tread.
�All their love is fabricated
And their care is but a lie,�
Thus delusions poisoning her head,
Would carefully imply.
Trudging down a highway,
A figure of despair,
Gun toting infant,
Clutching a teddy bear.
Rain is pouring down,
But her nightgown�s wet with blood.
Rivulets pouring down her cheeks,
But they are not rain or mud.
Thus she ran from all that supervened,
With guilt and gun and teddy bear.
Screaming through the night,
Beyond a quiet place of prayer.
She craves a happy ending,
With a champion complete,
But the road is cold and dark,
Bereft of people to entreat.
Trudging down a highway,
A figure of despair,
Gun toting infant,
Clutching a teddy bear.
If you see this wretched infant,
(Her nightgown�s wet with blood).
Help her staunch the rivulets,
(For they are not rain or mud).
I will be adding it to my poetry page when I am done with this entry.
I haven't written a poem for such a long time...and I think I might write another one...don't know...perhaps another fit of inspiration in the wee hours of the morning...perhaps...
And I am really not talkative...I am far too brooding and despondent to be talkative...rather go sit and think...maybe write some more...who knows...working on seeing if I could take a picture of my poem as a sampling of my handwriting...considering...that would be neat ^_^ yet for now, I go, to think and to brood...
The Gun Toting Infant, Clutching Her Teddy Bear (and the teddy bear is little comfort...)