posted December 08, 2003 11:55 PM
Why can't I write about the pain?
Why can't I release myself through words?
Words constrain me because I will not loose the reins.
I must use perfect language.
Whom am I trying to impress?
Surely not myself, although I know it to be true.Self-love, self-contempt, self-doubt, self-everything!
A worthless, weightless balloon filled with pride's hot air.
Always thinking of myself.
I want to be a good person but I am always wanting.
Beating myself with my self-awareness.
Of penance I have plenty but of penitence I have none.
Visions of the truth are but shooting stars.
Ephemeral moments of empathy shared with the universe.
Where are my catharsis? My purification? My solace?
I have purged myself of many things but never of my self.
Oh God, the pain within my soul!
Oh God, it hurts! It finally hurts!
Sensations of pain are merely its dissipation.
Something to be rejoiced, exclaimed!
Please, Dear God, let me hurt some more.
I can no longer stand this ache.
Sincerely,
divinia 
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What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness? -- Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Lindaland
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posted December 08, 2003 11:55 PM
posted December 09, 2003 12:12 PM
