My spirit is laden and my heart is anchored to the ground. The confinement that entraps me gags the words from my mouth and bruises all the scintillating light that I have left; I've been stripped of my tears, my hopes, my dignity, my pride. Though I understand that I should fight, my arms are too heavy to be luft. Though I canst see forward, my spirit discerns that the ending of abuse draws near and will finally close—much like my childhood which has recently ended—yet I've stood for so long, I'm uncertain if I can cross the red line though it be only a few inches away. Another step and I'll likely faint.
Why have you allowed this? Why have I no peace all my life, every waking day? I don't know who Peace is, she is but a stranger to me! I've barely lived in this world yet I've somehow managed to live all the worse parts of it. I've made sacrifices no one my age should make for the sake of them, and I still sacrifice 'til this day. But what hope is there for me? What life do I live? Who do I lean on? What eldest sister can I have as the eldest daughter?
My faith has been tried through and through, all my youth. How do you expect me to lean on you when my body and mind hast been bruised? Seest thou not the toll of this punishment on my sanity? Am I unclean in your sight for responding like a human, for my body responding to the harsh environments that I did not choose?
Why is it that the more I look to you, the more I suffer at the hands of my abusers? Why is it that this life scorns and mocks me and I am tormented by this madness, this despair, these spirits, this household wickedness?
Considering the vastness of what I don't know, I'm aware that I hardly know anything. My brain is but a fish in an endless sea. There's a capacity to which we will and can know things, which troubles me because I desire to know everything. But still, I must assimilate the meaning behind this torment to at least subside or recompense what has been stolen from me all my life.
My world is just beginning yet the chapter that has sprung remains the same. It makes me wonder if all this effort to continue down the righteous path is in vain because I cannot comprehend this absurdity. Each day is a lesson that evil is more austere than good, I learn this every day, yet I still rebuke the way she presents herself ever so simply. I don't succumb to her charms, and now I live a life of much complexity.
This madness ensures me to a prison in my mind which drowns me in many mental troubles. And sometimes, I think so much that I end up thinking a solution to my own problem yet it still does nothing for me. I'm still running miles in my head, breathless and longing to breathe. In a sense, I've become addicted to my mind. Now I fear my heart is waxing cold and a sickness beyond the physical threatens to plague my soul, making me dizeous. I've had a long run, I suppose this is the part where I finally dry out.
As of late, I've been tormented in my sleep so even sleeping is no escape, though my body has broken down so much that I've come to need it. I've suffered attacks physically and I've been stricken with sickness, and I'm sure this has made my suffering seem more intense than what it actually is. I'm certain that I've bordered the brink of sociopathy quite a few times but I'd rather not speak that over myself.
Sometimes my sighs and groaning are words enough because I cried too many pools of tears that I've run out of faucets—this shocked me, as I haven't cried in so long. I suppose it was still there and my circumstances have triggered what'd been lying dormant. That is why every word I write and every letter I think is a scream that no one will ever hear; they are the tears that I am unable to shed, they are the groanings and moans in my body.
I don't want to sacrifice but I have to. I know, it sounds selfish. And of course I love them, but my love for them no longer fuels my drive to help them—it's my integrity. I'm doing what is right because I know that I have to, even though no one else wants to. Even though they act as if they do, though the burden has been placed upon me. I recognize that I have a choice and I cannot sit back and do nothing when I know wrong from right. Though they don't appreciate me, though they have the most vile personalities to exist even though they are as youthful as I am, I'll do it all over again and suffer in the process because someone should have stepped in for me.
I am their sister. I am their mother and always have been. I have always seen their scars, and I have always been their shield, forced to take on their many blows. I also see them for who they are and who they could be if given the chance. That gives me hope to an extent. Not them now but who I see them to be in the future because I've seen them. And maybe one day they'll recognize that I have always covered them when they've got out of this angst phase that seems to be a plague among teenagers.
I beg of you to not release me over to my sin, my mind, because she hast become my addiction. Keep my sanity and my soul in your hands, as they are plunging away. For the sake of righteousness, I'll pay the price that I'll have to pay. I'll sacrifice my joy and my dreams so that they don't lose theirs as I've lost mine. And when I've done all I can and they have begun their lives, I hope by then you'd have released me from the debt that I owe them. Then I could be peaceful because this weight would no longer be in my hands.
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Luft = lifted up; a combination of the words lifted and up.
Dizeous = a feeling of both physical disorientation and mental unease or distress; a combination of the words dizzy and nauseous/anxious.
You won't find the definition of these words on Google because I made them up. I couldn't find a word that could describe the emotion I felt at the time, lol.
ESTÁ A LER
Deep Within My Soul
Poesia"Perhaps that's why I don't care greatly for revenge; a man's guilty conscious is a plate served by and to himself and no one can serve it better than him." A collection of introspective short stories and poetry.
