Teddy Thompson (teddythompson) wrote,
Teddy Thompson

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I fall asleep, I'm never waking up. I wish I could accept me, But I think I'm giving up.

I believe I have hit my lowest point. Despair. Pure and utter emptiness mixed with an ounce of pain when the numbness wears off. There are no more empty spaces left on my skin and the blood pumping through my veins gets slower every hour. Maybe even every second. I’m lost, but cannot be found. It’s my own castle I have built; decorated with the wounds I have caused, and painted with my own shame. It’s dark, black as night, I cannot see and I prefer it that way. All the mirrors are shattered at my feet because my reflection returns to me battered and bare, something I cannot stand. I walk over the shattered pieces and then stare in awe at the tainted red pieces behind me. Everything is behind me now. I have caused my own losses. I’m aware I can only move forward from this point but the noise in my head is so loud… so loud that it’s deafening. It’s turned to silence, my silence. My despair, my shame, my black hole, and my pain. It’s all mine now, and that’s how I made it. Hurt them before they can hurt you? I’m tired of hearing that. I try to learn it and it sounds repetitive and only more painful than the last 20 times it was repeated. Wear your scars like a trophy, for they are they map to your pain which leads to the constellations of your heart. This is my aching and I wear it well. Everything is mine and I didn’t want to share it with the others I come in contact with because their smiling faces and loving hearts should stay intact. Mine will always be broken, but theirs shouldn’t be broken as well. They deserve a chance to live, to breathe, and to feel things I have long since waved goodbye to. Avoid it, avoid me. I’m doom in a painted mask. The smile on my face is not real, the song in my heart is only notes on a bar… one beat per measure. Sometime, somewhere in my life, someone changed the beat and failed to inform me. I live with the mistakes I make everyday… they pain me, they cut at me like a freshly opened razor; new and striking a mine of red with the first easy push across milky terrain.

You want the truth? I’ve hurt all of you, and I know I have. I feel for each of you every day. I refuse to say sorry now because it’s so tedious and it helps no one, especially the pain that has hopefully faded. Why open new wounds? Because I know some of you are still hurting. Want my advice? Stay away from me. Stay as far away from me as you can. I’ll admit it… it’s what you want to hear anyway, right? I’m a horrible man, a horrible person. I deserve to be locked away in this shameful dungeon and have the key thrown away. That way if I hurt anyone, it will only be myself and it can be my own ruin. My own demise. Something I can control. I was burdened with not being able to stop the tears from your eyes and that’s a pain I can’t stand. I can stand any other pounding pain except the pain of yours. I can’t watch it anymore, I can’t watch myself.

I guess the only way for me to move is forward. I’m so far down that there is nowhere else to go, and I believe that is a good thing. I’ll move forward without a cross over my shoulder and without the scars upon my arms. When I pass you, I won’t look at you or even look back. It’s better that way. Find someone who can love you without hurting you. Unfortunately, I haven’t learned that trick yet.
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