nothing else but my heart's desire [COLLECTION] | FINISHED

Dreaming - ORIGINAL PROSE

I still dream about things which never happened or happened all the time, too much, too often. I still wake up, on occasion, in a cold sweat as my body recalls moments or feelings so intense, I can be hard-pressed to conjure the memory of it all if asked. I still feel lost, though my path is before me and all it takes to move forward is to walk, to push on, to think nothing of what came before. It burns on my skin, its left its mark on my heart, and the pain still lingers, but what is there left to do when each person I walk past on the street carries with them the same burdened expression, the same weary eyes, the same hunched posture? Who is left to listen to my woes, except for my reflection in the mirror, as I realise over and over again that pain still finds its way into my life and seems to always seek me out, no matter where I am, what I do or who I become? Others smile, I recognise it all, for I smile just the same after I rise each morning to tears already streaming down my cheeks, after a long day, as I return to my bed, pull the sheets over my saddened, heartless, unaffected, yet always unable/unwilling to be, self. I will push love away, because love could never be trusted, and I still carry the weight of my foremothers on my back, as I wish to find peace in acceptance, however or wherever that may be. Nothing matters, I tell myself, but it all mattered to me, that seems to matter most. I dream about a great many things, and wish to return to times since past, but its all since lost to the wind and yet, here I remain, wishing on broken, burnt out candles and broken dreams. And here I shall remain, writing and rewriting the same few words, finding as many ways as I can to scream out into the void that I wished for a better hand, and received a wish for death and a handful of words to soothe the wound left on my mind by those who came before. I wish to walk past such devils, to greet them only with a nod here and there, to show them what I know and to find a way to take one step at a time, to place one foot in front of the other, all the while I still shall walk this earth alone, with only a strong sense of anger and a reluctant acceptance of how things are to keep me company, for its all I can do to keep from screaming into the void again and again about my pain, and to feel torment further when I hear nothing in return.