Why am I crying?

created by Speck

(idea) by Speck (1.8 mon) (print) ? 2 C!s I like it! Thu Dec 07 2000 at 6:35:59

Why am I crying? It sounds like such a simple question. It's not. Sometimes I can answer it, but most of the time I never know why. It makes sense; it makes no sense. How am I to know when it is which? I don't.

Why am I crying? Always with the tormenting thoughts. They come unbidden. I can't help it. They hurt me, but they're all my thoughts. I have no control over them. They swim through the space that is my mind and they burn. They burn. Pain - random, sharp. I never know when yet another will sear into the flesh of my brain, my heart, my soul. They're all there, just waiting for this or that, their chance to strike, like sharks. Sharks in the ocean of my mind. One bite causes the frenzy, and I'm smothered in their bites. Please make them go away.

Why am I crying? He left. He left just now, said he was going to bed. He's hurting, I can feel it. I can't help him. I love him.. I can't help him. I hurt when he hurts; I want to help him, but I can't. So helpless. Always so helpless. And those thoughts, those shadowy sharks, they grow restless with this pain, feed on it. They revel in it. They strike. Fear, pain. Does he love me? Will he stay with me? Will I lose him? I don't want to think them; I don't want to dwell. They won't let me do otherwise. Please make them stop. I'm so alone. Alone with them.

I'm scared...

Why am I crying? I perceive things that aren't there. They are twisted by the evil that is my mind. They hurt, when they were never meant to be. People, actions, single words, all with the stabs of sharp, burning icicles into my heart. I can't breathe. My chest hurts too much. I don't want to breathe. To breathe means to live. To live means to feel more pain. I don't want to feel the pain. I don't want to live. I don't want to die. Is that what it's all about? Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? I don't.

Why am I crying? Because I can. It is there, it is release. Always available, always ready to begin. Does it help? Sometimes. Not really. Maybe. I don't know. It doesn't bring help. Why should it? That would be too easy. No one there to comfort me, no one there to hold me. I want to be held. Is that such a bad thing? Contact. Physical contact would be nice. I'm so alone. I don't want to be. Can that change? Maybe. I don't know. Who does?

Why am I crying? It's another night. It's every night. All nights. Each night is the night before. They're all the same. They begin the same. They end the same. I begin the same. I end the same. Always pain, always hurt. I can't breathe. Make it stop! I would do anything to make it stop. Please make it go away..

Is there anybody out there?

Why am I crying? And to think, I always said I hate angst. I do. I'm smothered in it all the time, through myself. Why do I need it from somewhere else? When it all overflows at last, get it out somewhere. Node? It's worth a try.. I'll try anything.

printable version
chaos

Daddy, stop hitting me and tell me you love me	Every "why" question can be answered by a phrase using the word "idiot"	An M pretending to be an S	Doing illogical things to feel better about yourself
I miss you	Is there anybody out there?	I never thought it would be like this	This wasn't how it was supposed to be
I love you	To His Mistress Going to Bed	I don't want to die	Green into yellow into orange, like leaves
angst	After sixteen years, that voice	No Control	An important message from the Prime Minister of Australia
Prophet of human wreckage	breathe	Sometimes	Don't Be Afraid
Someone please kill me	Under the Harvest Moon	May 7, 2001	November 29, 2002

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