picking up…

well i wrote on here a long time ago, in the midst of a crisis, what i suppose would have been 15 years ago now… i write again now in the throes of another collapse, but this time it is different.

i write this entry, because i have come here to die, i have come to fling my old self at the feet of the altar, draw my blade, and kindly dispatch her to rest. she is a weakened, frightened, lonely, sad thing, filled with rage, resentment, bitterness, her heart is blackened by what has been seen, spoken, smelled. she has come here to die. finally to die, she no longer need prowl the refuge of the cage, snarling and howling through gritted teeth. she no longer need clenched jaw, gathered up shoulders and eyes that flit here and there with a hope to be subtle.

a ghost, wandering streets, crying deeply within, knowing it, pushing it away, knowing it again, delivered by hopelessness into arms that have never let go, not from the first breath and nor to the last, but lonely all the same. staring up at the sky, asking, “why do they never ask why like i do?”.

beaten up rag doll, you have held my hand through all of this, but i want you to be at peace,

i have to go and so must you.