You don’t get to choose who you love and who you don’t. You have no power over the ability to feel, the ability to be our own medication. The capability to contain something so powerful. Like a gift, we have been given a mind of walking thoughts. Short-term immunity and long-term damage to ourselves. The way how the disease is not the brain, the thoughts or the living nightmares but how our gut wrenching disease is us- not our imagination.
My open wounds are feelings only I have felt. My pain is my bed so I must lay in it. Time is just a prison sentence- everyone has their own time and time took hers. You don’t choose who you love, but time can choose who to take. Time chose to take her and I can’t do anything but accept it.
I am the only one who sees my past, the only one who sees my present, my future. For my time only exists in my brain. It’s not the stimulation of age but the progression of thought.
“Row Row Row your boat gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream.” Life is but a dream is bullshit.. bullshit to my own creation. For this “dream” is just pain, and pain is just love, the love is still here in wasted time.. wasted time of pain. The pain I created. The pain I feel. I can’t choose what I feel but yet.. yet I still create it.
The way my heart beats, giving out support to my body. The love and happiness.. The smile I try to gift others everyday non-stop just gifting. How I have nothing left to give because time took her.. but all I do is give. Time won’t be my killer, I will be the killer to myself. But if living is living for her than I must live on for us both.
Sometimes I can’t help but feel the pain of my own emotions. The pain of losing someone so... powerful doesn’t build my walls.. it “makes you stronger” it made me stronger.. well it will, but not without fighting everything I own. Happiness, confidence, abilities. But nothing is ever dead if you look at it right. Or is it? For I can’t hug her, I can’t laugh with her, she may see me but I can’t see her.
My eyes are like swimming pools but I can’t swim.. I can’t breathe under water and make it through, I can’t fight a liquid so powerful.
I can’t finish this story because your story was never finished to me but time has a funny way of deciding.. I can’t say I agree but I have nothing more to fight for other than my open wounds...
My open wound raised me, she bathed me.. she gave birth to me but yet she left me for something unknown... My first connection to the world. But what is time if you leave your flesh and blood by choice? That’s why you are my only first connection. You didn’t leave by choice, I saw you fight. I saw the pain and the struggle. I saw your last moments of time.. fuck time
My wounds may soon make peace with me but for now my heart will remain broken by time. But in time I will meet her again..
I love you open wounds..