Sometimes, there are times when action cannot be expressed and words can only follow.
What you are about to read, is how I feel. I am not on the verges of suicide and I am not in need of counselling.
I cannot explain why I wrote this, nor do I wish to try.
I can only say, if it makes sense to you, the reader, then you are the same as I.
Thank you for reading.
“Sat here thinking the things I think, I can’t help but wonder.
No, it’s not the beginning of a fancy poem or some other intellectual writings, merely an awakening to hows things were, are and how they will be.
Sometimes, life is hard and it bites back harder than I.
And sometimes the knocks are not so easily returned from. But the small things in life we often take for granted, get left behind, with no hope of being found again.
For this is the place where I find myself at, at this time.
The knocks are hard, and the harshness of bitter words are more hurtful than the sharpest of blades, and yet life continues.
Maybe it is the wine talking through my fingers or just the time where I feel only sorrow, I grasp at these words so dearly.
I’m sorry for the things I’ve done, the things I haven’t and the things I should have.
I am but one person, whos life has been tainted, with whom the closest cannot comprehend.
I’m sorry for the way I act, and the shame I hide.
I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused, and the twisted words I’ve uttered.
I can only explain that, the life I lead is like a sealed chamber, bashing against the sides, trying to be heard, but failing to address the onlookers.
Intolerably lonley whilst in a crowded room, deafened by the silence and blinded by all there is to see.
Whilst some may wonder, what am I talking about, and others may laugh at the words I’ve typed, as anything if life that is to be understood, no-one feels it greater than the one who understands.
And as I type, I could be considered not in a fit state, to wonder if grammer has been adhered to, and that spelling is correct. I just sit here quiet.