The pain is like an anchor tied around my neck, weighing me down, dragging me to the bottom of the ocean, where I shall lie rotting for all of eternity. Some days I feel like the Gods are looking down on me, all laughing at the little jokes they play on me, watching me squirm in the cesspool that is my life. I feel like the discarded old rag doll, with one button eye missing and patches for a dress, and a clump of unruly orange hair just like the hair clowns have, the ones who live to amuse. Is that my purpose, my calling? To please others and leave my own happiness to the care of dogs and demons?
(image source: neurolove.tumblr.com)
I see RED!! I want to Kill, Maim! But that screechy little hag inside me won't shut up, won't let me have my way. I'd scream but my voice died a long time ago with my spirit. All I have left is the abyss. I could never let anyone know what scars my being, my very soul, for fear of them plucking and picking away at whatever life I have left until there is nothing left except for me, naked to the scrutiny of the world, paraded up and down in front of eyes that would rather watch me scatter away into nothingness, rather than hold out their hands to me - with venom hidden just behind a veil of sympathy.