Purgatory
So tired.
Stuck in a purgatory of my own making. Hopes of my salvation being continuously dashed. One minute I'm an angel bring mercy and light into an otherwise dark life. The next i'm the devil incarnate.
Just another burden. I swore I'd never put myself in a position to feel like that again.
Tried so hard to be productive, to work arduously until I could work no more. To be independent, to stand on my own two feet. To make a home out of this place. How can one feel at home at a place that makes one feel as though they are walking on eggshells. That more and more of her personality is simply incongruent with the people and things surrounding her. Was supposed to be spreading my wings, not afraid to extend a feather... I want to go home. Wherever that is. I haven't been there in a long time.
Purgatory.
Was supposed to be getting stronger. But my health is failing. My looks...well, let's not talk about that.
He told me a story once about a parrot that he and his then girlfriend took care of for a friend for a while. When it first arrived, it was happy, beautiful, and whistled the most beautiful tunes. But time passed and slowly the birds feathers were falling out, it started missing notes in songs it knew, and then stopped singing altogether. They tried everything they could, showed it attention, took it to the vet... to no avail. Then the friend returned and picked the bird up in his hand. The second they were together again, the bird started singing loud as ever, cheerful tunes without skipping a note...
Am I molting?
The last environment I thought my spirit and freewill was dying in... but now... I'm simply dying.
Or am I?
I don't even trust my own feelings anymore.
Stuck in a purgatory of my own making. Hopes of my salvation being continuously dashed. One minute I'm an angel bring mercy and light into an otherwise dark life. The next i'm the devil incarnate.
Just another burden. I swore I'd never put myself in a position to feel like that again.
Tried so hard to be productive, to work arduously until I could work no more. To be independent, to stand on my own two feet. To make a home out of this place. How can one feel at home at a place that makes one feel as though they are walking on eggshells. That more and more of her personality is simply incongruent with the people and things surrounding her. Was supposed to be spreading my wings, not afraid to extend a feather... I want to go home. Wherever that is. I haven't been there in a long time.
Purgatory.
Was supposed to be getting stronger. But my health is failing. My looks...well, let's not talk about that.
He told me a story once about a parrot that he and his then girlfriend took care of for a friend for a while. When it first arrived, it was happy, beautiful, and whistled the most beautiful tunes. But time passed and slowly the birds feathers were falling out, it started missing notes in songs it knew, and then stopped singing altogether. They tried everything they could, showed it attention, took it to the vet... to no avail. Then the friend returned and picked the bird up in his hand. The second they were together again, the bird started singing loud as ever, cheerful tunes without skipping a note...
Am I molting?
The last environment I thought my spirit and freewill was dying in... but now... I'm simply dying.
Or am I?
I don't even trust my own feelings anymore.