Today I hate life.
Inside I’m battling with thoughts of fear and defeatism.
Is he right? Will I loose everything and be homeless in six months.
His negativity reverberates in my mind… just when I feel confident and strong… just when I feel like it will all be okay.
It thrashes to and fro… like the pendulum on a clock… trying to dash out of its way.
There he comes with an onslaught of his hatefulness.
His constant ‘my cups half empty’ mentality.
I have never hated anyone as much as I hate him.
I don’t like the person I am when he is around.
I hate his voice… I hate his whine… I hate his face.
He is a constant self-fulfilling prophecy.
I can’t allow him to be mine. I can’t allow him to destroy my soul any longer.
I’ve broken free… but not really.
He is there everyday with some kind of antagonistic comment.
His up and down, back and forth… he is a gigantic wave that seeks pleasure in crashing down on me smothering my soul… my heart…
His own inner miserableness and lack of self-confidence pours out like vomit trying to cover me in his filth.
Rise up and take a step…
There behind me… lurking… he grabs me by the ankle and pulls me down again.
The hate is deep and real.
I don’t want to feel this hate or the pain any longer.
I don’t want to be on the dark side….
I want light.
A different kind of post tonight….
I often read other’s work and wonder how they were able to express their inner pain and struggles, their passions and regrets, their fears and anxieties in a way that bears their soul. I call it writing naked.
Not literally of course… well maybe some do, but I mean it in a proverbial sense. I mean it because I dream of writing in this capacity.
It’s scary. Laying oneself out bare and open. Do we ever really write what we think? Do we bare our inner soul’s minds deepest, darkest thoughts?
Our hates. Our loves. Our fears. Our tempest soul?
I think I worry too much what people will think of me. Although for the most part I don’t really care what people think of me. Oxymoron???
The dirt is clean.
The dirt of the mind… is it clean?
The dark side of the moon… or the mind?
Writing naked. We are self-protecting creatures by nature. Whether it be our ego that steps up and screams, “NO YOU DON’T!”
Writing naked. We are self-preserving creatures by nature. Our mind won’t let us open that door to the heart.
Writing naked. We are self-fulfilling creatures by nature. We can make what we believe happen if we believe it hard enough.
That high, secure wall will not come down!
The tempest of the mind is screaming. The mistakes. The anguish. The tears that have soiled the bed.
What is writing naked really?
What does it matter when the chances of someone reading it is slim to none?