Another falling day……

Another slow lunch andtime is ticking slowly past, each passing second another pound falls from the skies and becomes lost eternally. In trying to make the right choice, somewhere I have become lost. These once familiar corridors, and rooms now fill with shadows and become so alien, so distorted in there view that I can not help but wonder if all of this is real.

Constant tick tick ticking of time, that chill that each passing day, each passing second brings us one step closer to the end, where the worry stops, where the pressure and pain ease, and life as we understand it ceases to be.

Its at times like these, when the world aroundyou falls apart, that often we take stock, stand back and look at our lifes, and for people like me, those that were never really meant to be, its more often than not a dim and bleak shadow that stares back from that mirror. The more I look back, the more of me I see in shadows, lingering on the edge.

Striving for normality and stability, from the depths of a childhood that was so dark, trying to understand the real world with the eyes of a child, no one to guide, to pull through, to help and develop. The only thing I knew was pain, indeed with out pain life is abnormal, a black eye, bruise, the hatred and anger all flow and fit quite well. The walls grow strong as that child grows, shutting itself in, untamed, untrained, but its reflexes are quick, it knows when to duck, or when to dive.

Running always from one place to the next, a mess left behind here and there, another shattered fraction of a broken life. Each new stage, each new place, the false promises that this time things will be better. The world becomes disjointed in an attempt to patch up the rot, decaying walls are papered over, but the solace, the very reality and core of me can not be hidden long, by a quick coat of paint, a slap stick of wallpaper. Like a sponge grown full pelt, it is but for the squeezing then that sponge is dry again.

I have never really known how to deal with people, relate, build relationships as the normals do. I am always weary and choose to land the first blow before they have a chance. Held deep with in are things that pass show, behind the mask sits me. Not the brace and brazen person those around me see, but a small confused broken child, trying to find its way.

In all of this running in all of these years, the one place that I want to get as far away as possible from, is the once place I can never really escape, the blackness that holds me. As the world folds, as dreams and ambitions drop like rains from skies above, once more I see that things for normals are not things for me.

My thoughts today.


~ by Duma Key on March 17, 2009.

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