I have a cocktail of mental abnormalities that prevent me from having a lifestyle fit to my worthiness, therefore I live on the internet, of which, I don't even have friends here either. I expect nothing and hope for the end.
Major Depression, Paranoia, Skizoid, APD, Severe Anxiety. As I grow older and more alone it gets worse but I never wonder why.
I don't endorse you or me becoming this fucked up.
I seem to be, as humans usually are, inept to witness the joys of togetherness and harmony. It seems to be that the Gods refuse to let my other half soar with me into a world full of danger and pain. Thus I am here to walk alone, my bare feet unbandaged and bloodied from the sharp rocks of failure are the only things pulling me forward. The pain, the sensory overload taking hold of my body and twitching it into a direction, any direction, of pain and minimal hope. The inferno that was the passion of my soul burns blue with a placid, dull flame that flickers weakly in my chest. The golden precious lifeblood of my love burns as it courses through my body and damages my organs, no longer pumping life but stinging my body into a numb submission. Yet I keep walking, here, there, anywhere with the promise of a dawn creeping into my lackluster brown eyes. I see the horizon off in a distance but as I walk closer it seems to move further into the distance. Can you hear me cry? Can you see my tears? Do you know my real name? I ponder to you as you listen to my thoughts, you see this horizon turns into a world I can scarcely live in. I feel weak as I tredge on trying to figure out these simple questions as they pass through my idle mind while my body lives on. I think I understand my weeping face and can say what my true name is, the name that gives me strength and power to continue on. What is it? Ah, Hope. I know now why I’m in this hell. I give Hope to those who need me, I can tell you your true name and give you the strength to pull through. Will you take my hand and walk aimlessly with me? No matter what I will always love you with every bit of blood stinging my body, I will always care with every bit of my burning soul, I will always be here as my blood spills and my eyes cloud over. Yet, I fall. It hurts so much to fall on my face, no longer looking into the sun but to the cool dirt below me. I can smell the delicious earth that has caught my fall, I am too weak to stand and yet you walk over me to take my place. Take my burning blood, my placid eyes, my smoldering soul and my bloody souls. Walk with my ghost as the rest of us do. Yes, more of us walk beside you though you do not see us, we have given in. We will help you to walk into the horizon, aimlessly, we see the sun, we live in it as light beings as little angels protecting those who seek that horizon. Let me walk with you into the horizon though you forsaken me in my lively state let me ghost you into a new era of life. Carry on dear love, carry on little life, carry on where I could not and give me the strength of my one true name to be reborn and live again, walking to the ever moving horizon. Give me, Hope.
(An excerpt from my book Infrequentia) ((Spelling mistakes and grammar, I no longer have the finished copy just the final draft, apologies)
And he did pray
He sat in his room and sighed softly at the poster on the wall, smiling teens were looking down on him while they held hands and walked toward the mall. He found himself smiling too and saw his body in that poster with friends he knew all his life and going to the mall to hang out. He frequented this dream world and it always started with the poster and from that poster he would move onto many wonderful things. He wouldn’t go into Hollister alone anymore his friends would be all around him laughing insanely at a joke he just cracked. While they are on their way out he would spot the girl he had a huge crush on since middle school in the store across the way. He would be brave and go in and flirt, a touch here, a joke there, and a bunch of mindless conversation then she would join him and his friends for some iced coffee at Starbucks. At the end he would say goodbye to his friends and wrap his arm around her waist and whisper sweet nothings in her ear so romantic even an adult women would blush.
He would swim in this fantasy and every time it would change, maybe they aren’t in the mall but at a friend’s house or even a pool party but it all ended the same. He would get his girl, his secret love, and have friends that were genuine. Though he did have friends they were but not the criteria for what a real friend is to him; there weren’t there when he needed them like he was always there for them. To make matters worse he couldn’t tell the girl he loved how he felt since he hated rejection and didn’t know how to talk to her the right way. His life was less than the perfect poster staring at him; his life was empty and meaningless.
Whenever he felt so empty inside that he was ready to burst he would try and play some music so that he could turn his mind onto something positive. He dreamed of playing her a song from his heart but all he could do was slip in a secret message or two to her through his art. He also used his art to express his aggression of hating the fact that he had to be alone in this world. When music couldn’t save him he laid on his side with his eyes closed and his mind screaming at him to just give up and that it wasn’t worth the pain. He would think about leaving the world behind and thinking that things could be so much better without him.
He would stare at his fathers’ gun collection and just imagine the possibilities. Which gun would be the best to use for a quick clean kill, what he should put in his goodbye letter, and where should he let his body fall. Then he would think about his mother who would be so devastated if he left, his father and the disappointment on his face, and his brother just shaking his head in disgust at his corpse.
He slowly left the thought of death behind and just thought about staying in his room for the rest of his life. It’s not like he would be dead he just wouldn’t want to come out and face the world because of the constant rejection and fakeness it had to offer. What was the point in facing such a world? He wanted to find people to love and who would love him for being him, not for being handsome or tall but for being whom he was inside. A slightly obnoxious comedian with a heart of gold just trying to find his way in the world, that was him and he wanted to share his personality with all that would allow it.
The conflicting emotions in his soul finally collided, the anger for being alive, the angst for leaving his family behind, the sadness from being alone, and the emptiness from life itself. He lay on his bed almost every night after a day of light happiness and jesting with his acquaintances and would stare at the ceiling before he slept. He would pray. He prayed about what the day might bring tomorrow; he prayed that the Lord not take him before he could tell her how he felt about her. He prayed that loneliness wouldn’t take over his soul, and he prayed that he could hold on for a little longer just to see what would happen next. He prayed and prayed hard.
© ChaoticlyYours 2008
A Story by ChaoticlyYours
What memories are made of
A bit of this memory and a bit of that. The hand holding, the laughter, the innocent touches. All bound together in a couldren of thoughts that swim around within my mind. When I am on my own in the dead of night I reach up into this pool of thoughts and begin to build. The eyes are quite fine, the personality is correct, the height, and hair color are supreme. Everything is perfect even though the stitching isn’t so good, they, my creation, is wonderful. Deserving of being alive.
Now is the time to breathe life into him.
He stands as I start to give him a voice through my own, a heartbeat of which we share, and a vision of the future. We are in perfect harmony, in sync with one another to the point of mimicking shadows. When I cry he is there to mend the wound without ridicule or shaming. When I feel down he is around to make me laugh with his goofy behavior. When he starts to come apart I bring my sewing kit and gently patch him back together again.
What a strange hodgepodge of a monster.
With every move and blink of an eye is a memory of my own coming to life. All of those people who contributed to his life have given me a great gift of which can never be lost by time or weather. My monster is always here diligently tending to himself and me, always relying on me to keep the memories so that he can wake up each day. We depend upon each other in this workshop I have in my room where he was born, where the invention of a monster of memories was created.
Assist me in the making of dreams
I am quite happy to know that you are around, my monster of memories, I will always feed more into you. I will continue to experience the joys of life so that you can continue to grow until one day I no longer have the strength to carry on. You, my monster, will forever continue to touch the lives of many because your memories are not only mine but thoughts that I have shared with them and when I am gone you should never be sad as the memories of you and I are also within you. Even you can make your own memory monster.
For now my monster we will perch here and help others to make memories, we will bring them together and let them create a workshop for when they need to make one of you. As they age they will more than likely build one to maintain the joys of youth, of special occasions, of warm feelings so that when they no longer have the strength to go on, they too will have created a monster to share with those who are dear. They will never die alone, the memories are fresh and thriving, with breath, eyes, a nose and a mouth.
What a beautiful creature.
© 2011 ChaoticlyYours
This pretty much sums up my life, without the rescuing and whatever the ending is just hopeful and the reality of things. Btw, lots of grammar issues and spelling as this was a rough draft for my finals and my actual final cut is in book form so…eh, this is pretty much me, more or less, and the steady decline of my mental state. How I wish someone cared and was ok with how I am now, killed from the inside out, by society.
A Poem by ChaoticlyYours
This is a story about a girl named Milly who is ravaged by loneliness so great that she goes insane. This is part of a collection of short stories called Infrequentia.
Milly was a fair child, quiet, and serene nothing could bother her at least nothing that could be seen. When the lights go out and night has settled she sits in her room and thinks, her mind runs with horrible things something a young girl shouldn’t think. She thinks about screaming and to finally let go let her emotions flow to parts unknown. She knows she wants to say it, she knows she wants to paint it; she knows she wants to kick and scream and make the whole world know it. But she stops herself from sharing the feelings that she has because no one’s there to listen; no one to share the guilt. She ponders in her room to her silent group of friends she takes comfort in the darkness and runs back to it time and again.
Sometimes she wishes to talk to boys or gossip with the girls but they shun her at the playground and make fun of her tight curls. She feels she is not worthy and stares at her reflection, is she too hairy or pale or too gruesome? She notices the red and notices the white but she never sees what she has inside. So she runs into her bedroom and cries herself to sleep ready to scream and shout to people who are incomplete. She calls them her friends they are the sky, the moon, the stars her best friends are her room and her books most of all. She talks to them at midnight wanting advice and company but then she realizes she is talking only to herself and cries to sleep.
For years she acts like this; an emotionless robot girl desensitized from being alone for far too long in this world. So she is diagnosed as too dumb to make friends too stupid to be social too ignorant to make amends with her past and start anew. She just closed her eyes and shouted in her mind to no one in particular within suspended time. when she is all happy and the mask is right in place she tries to attract attention but it ends in the same place. The people they don’t like her and make fun of her first before she ever could talk, no one bothers to hear her she feels that she is cursed. Though someone is looking and Watching all her moves and wants to be so close to her but doesn’t know how to move. She goes on in life alone to this very day still sitting in that padded room she sits the day away.
In her room she screams alone but now someone listens someone watches and someone knows. A camera is in her room a nurse right out the door a noose sets in her closet a chair sits alone. She touches her face and see the red and white she says a little prayer before her eternal good night. She thought she could stick it out alone but this holds oh so true that humans cannot be alone their must always be two, the loneliness got to her the sadness took her soul and now she is Mad Milly and has no place to go.
The one that was Watching looks through his mind at the double sided window that is Milly, his fellow childhood middle school occupant, and wonders the “ifs” upon finally meeting her properly so he decides to look for her to explore all her secrets. He finds her in a sad place an asylum close to him so he decides to visit to try to move close to her again. He checks into the building and looked around the rooms everyone was screaming his blood was cold his veins were filled with gloom. He made it to her room and knocked upon the door when no one seemed to answer he decided to enter the room to her world, to her mind, to her solitude. He stood alone in silence and let his eyes see that Milly isn’t here, Mad Milly is, and she is Missing.
He looked around the room it was all so bare but something in his heart brought him to the closet door he moved quickly there. he opened it and saw that Milly was almost gone he picked her up and smiled and loosed up the noose he held her very gently feeling breath, so still, her lucid body. He took her with him to a place where they could be alone together where they can care for one another and he can continue his Watching in peace. Milly will always stay Missing it’s just the way things are, loneliness has taken the Milly that was now so very far. But he didn’t mind her cold stares and mean and hurtful words. Yet sometimes she is sweet and gentle with her mannerisms and ways and he is shown a little more of Missing Milly’s true self that’s so very far away.
© 2008 ChaoticlyYours
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