isntepic Archive

9 - music

There are some songs,

That I can't listen to.
That mentally hurt me.
Destroy me,
Because of what I had worked so hard to achieve.

2 years of effort.
5 times, I thought of disappearing.
It was my safe space,
My home which I never intended to leave.

Although,
A place where I could not actually be myself,
But a part of myself existed in the facade I placed upon myself.
In this world full of books,
Writers,
My passion,
As well as many others.

This false sense of achievement,
Attachment,
Love,
Hate.
That might have been true in the end.

Crumbled apart,
I smiled,
Waving to those whom I had once loved,
As I departed through the door,
And into this cold and empty hallway.
One that I knew I wouldn't stay in for too long.

But I tend to linger on things for too long,
A past dweller,
That people are always telling me to stop doing.
Leave the past alone,
As there is nothing I can do to change it,
Nothing anyone can do to change it.

I am wounded,
This part of me that has been ripped out of my soul,
This part of me which had always loved the music,
That can't stand to listen to the music,
This part of me who misses everything that had happened,
That wants to return to the past,
To try and get back the life I used to have.
The life in which I was happier,
Seemed happier,
Was happier.

I cannot have that.
I cannot have that back.
No matter how hard I try.

This music will forever kill me.
This music that sparks fond memories,
Of the time I had less of a burden to haul,
Or that it wasn't a lighter burden,
It was heavier,
Just much more enjoyable.
Unlike the struggles I face now.

Those of which I have no out of.

There are some songs,
That I can't listen to.
That mentally hurt me.
Destroy me,
Because of how wounded I have become.

(June 12, 2022, 12:20 PM)