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Reflections on My Life

May 10, 2014

Life is only beautiful from afar, barely visible, most discernible through the misty grey—the blankets and veils of ugliness with which I’ve shrouded myself and my life. I know it is my fault. I can never keep a grasp on any happiness that I find, because I am never satisfied with myself or anyone else. I slip into darkness and become lost in that indescribable place.

Honestly, I was not cut out for prison. Maybe I could have been something in the world or even from within these walls, but whatever that something might have once been capable of being is long gone now. Pieces of me were stolen throughout the years, and the rest was just wasted by my own self. I sold my soul for absolutely zero.

I’ve been a toy, a misfit, a fake, a phony. I’ve built myself up to only tear myself down. Some part of me has led me to this place. Prison has vilified me, prison has torn my mind apart and my soul to shreds. I’ve attempted to mend the frayed ends only to rip them apart again or to damage them further.

I can not be alive anymore and look upon myself with any sense of pride or character. Everything I once was has been lost. Whereas I used to care, I don’t anymore. I was somewhat of a decent person, once before, at some point in time. When? I can’t exactly pinpoint. I know that ever since I can remember I have been being torn apart. I used to be strong enough to withstand “it,” whereas now I just let the pieces go that are torn from me, and now I I am nothing more than a coward. I probably can’t even kill myself without a gram of heroin, the easiest way on earth to die. Who knows though?

I’ve let the whispers of others manipulate and distort my mind and views and principles. WEAK. I AM WEAK.

I don’t know where I am going as my vision loses focus, and I wonder if there is some place better after this or worse or nothing or the same. Will it matter?


From → BLOG

  1. christy davis permalink

    That is not true at all. U r a fabulous writer and i want to read more. Do not.


  2. Barbara Schuster permalink

    Your family would be devastated.


  3. I understand these feelings.


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