Dreams Over Reality

Its 4:56 In February

I've noticed things.
Noticed the terrible things I've done in the past.
I'm lying in bed blasting music in my ears, tears swelling against my eye lids.
The pain of the past creeping slowly.
I've noticed so much in myself and my faults that it's almost sickening to my stomach.
Seeing problems with other people going on really sets up the realities of what you've done.
I've hurt people.
Lied to people.
Cheated and stole.
If it were legal I would've killed and kidnapped my way to the top and I'll never be proud of those thoughts.
But they exist.
I knew from the moment I first pressed that blade to my skin that I wasn't normal.
I knew that nothing could fix the mental damage that remained.
The heart damage.
From then I've done everything to make a name of myself and in all of the wrong ways.
The tears now falling from my eyes and yet I recognize that I am not forgiven.
I will never be forgiven for what I've done.
Even though I've had to repent for the errors of my ways, I know there's nothing I can do to give restitution to those I've damaged.
The trust I've betrayed.
The hearts I've broken.
The pain I've caused.
I've never really gotten over my anger towards a lot of people.
Never had the chance to get rid of that demon.
I never had the chance to speak my piece and it really hurts knowing I could never do so.
Not to the right people.
I'm sure I've wrote about it a million times, but..
That never really helps to be honest.
As much as I can cry and write and tell myself that it'll be okay, I know it's not.
The tears failing to flow and I'm stuck in this thumping silence in my chest.
The silence of failure.
The silence of regret.
The silence of emotion.
It's sad and hurts when I can't even speak to my mother about things because I fear judgement.
I hated my father for the longest time for things within my control but lashing it out on those around me.
I broke their trust over and over and it's my fault.
I know I've wrote how much I've hated him and how much I wished I could watch him die but I know it's just my inability to talk about how I feel to any of my parents.
I've tried to eventually fix my issues with my parents but ultimately I've failed to do so.
And it's all my fault.
I can't help but bitch and moan and play the victim card when I know that I'm the problem.
I've always been the problem and I can't help but try and avoid being one.
I swear to God that if I weren't a fucking coward, I woulda just slit my throat 5 years ago.
I shoulda.
I really fucking should have.
Nobody would've been hurt.
Nobody would have to deal with me.
Nobody would have to put up with the bullshit of my existence.
I woulda died and things woulda been better.
I promise you, things would have been better.
Less financial issues, less stress, less everything.
When I started writing this, it was 4:56 and now it's 5:30.
I should sleep.