Wonderwall

“I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I feel about you know…there are many things that I would like to say to you but I don’t know how.”-Oasis There will never be the right words, the perfect ending, peace in a never ending argument. Sometimes things just have to end tragically and ugly. Sometimes you literally have to cut someone out of your life harshly and unwillingly; because they are like cancer sucking out your life force. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t kill you. It doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. But at what point are you willing to stop being a masochist? At what point do you become tired of living an unhappy life? For a long time I believed that I couldn't change my masochistic tendencies. I kept inviting and giving to people who were like leeches feeding off of me. Where did it get me? Slit wrists, slashed heart, broken spirit, dirty soul. BROKEN. They led me down a broken road of glass and more glass. You get to a point where you are numb from walking on the shards of glass-so numb you can't even feel. And before you know it something else has happened that has you at the bottom of another rabbit hole screaming for the white rabbit to get you out. When you decide that you finally need to get out it's a climb, a climb you're not even prepared for. In the past year I have embarked upon a journey to climb out of such said rabbit hole. I have struggled with depression for many years. I didn't really know that's what it was. I thought I was just going through a phase. This year I started a journey into the unknown, the taboo-A WORLD CALLED THERAPY. In the past I would've lied and said I was going to the gym or spa or something more interesting than this but I can't. As a writer I fell in love with those writers who bared their soul, who kept it real, those whose words I could see and feel when I closed my eyes. What I aspire to be is real. I want to make people feel like they finally have someone they can relate to. I want you to read my words and be transported to another time, another place, to feel everything. So here it is. I am bare. This is the beginning.... I began because on was at the end. I had been attempting to give myself closure for years. I covered wound upon emotional wound with "band aids" that didn't fit, didn't stick and didn't cover anything. In retrospect there are so many things left unsaid, so many things I want to tell people but I truly do not know how. So maybe, maybe it will save me. Will it finally be my Wonderwall? I will detail my experience in the next few blogs and poems.