➸ AFTER THE STORM

CHAPTER VII- SELF-HATRED AND INSANITY

MORGAN DIARY - DATE UNKNOWN

Everyone enjoys the long days as I wish them away, I don't feel happy with myself I think so many times what if I just take the blade against my skin will it hurt me like the void inside does or will it bring me peace of mind or will it make it worse?

I wonder like Icarus what I would do if I did fly too close to the sun, would I burn myself alive, I wonder what it would feel like to be a star all the time would I forever shine? 

But then I think I would shine not for myself but for others because that is what it feels like I have been doing my whole life,

I wonder if I gave in and let it happen to burn until I was nothing...

The blade is calling me like the night the way the waves do the moon in the dead of night, like the birds do the sun when it rises.

I wonder if I will make it or if it will consume before it's over and everyone doesn't notice but it's not like I told them.

I just silenced my screams and I let my tears fall and I smiled like it would help. I pray I hope that god will hear me but I don't think he will.

I'm holding it in and it's suffocating me but I don't want to tell.

I don't want to move I'm scared if I do it will crush me.

I WANT to be happy

I WANT to be normal

I WANT to be loved

I DON'T want to feel like the enemy in my OWN family and DON'T want to feel like a stranger in the house I can't call home.

I DON'T want to feel like a monster with guilt I can't get rid of, I want to undo all the mistakes and the thoughts and the cures but I can't see them,

All I see is the blood and I CAN'T be clean and it's killing me.

I DON'T want to be a disappointment to everyone I know I DON'T wish to be wasted potential to everything I know.

I feel ignored, I feel lied to, and I feel hated by my family I can't find a reason why I would be singled out like this.

I feel so lonely even when everyone around me.

I'm starved of love and care and everything in between all that is left is rage, hungry of the bloodlust of my anger, that I can't ever avenge it pours over me like a storm.

But I know it's not logical to rage into such despair, so I paint the images as they come to me in a scale of grey and the blood of my enemies. The range is so divine and complex—so many gray scales I never knew, so many reds that range from so many purposes.

An increasing amount of rage emanates from the diary of words, a canvas bearing the face of a man I don't know, and others of a cannibalistic appetite sparked by the Apocalypse.

I don't know where these images come from and there never pretty and I feel like it spilling out of me like the blood that I can't hold in like a wound of my blooded soul.

So much blood and I can't help it I have to write and I paint these times are what bring me some fragment of Peace of mind because it feels like I'm drowning in a sea of sin.

I know I have been marked as a sinner because if not why feel like I'm not whole like I'm being ripped into two, I feel like a crying soul that has been crying forever and no one heard.

I don't just feel like I'm paying for my own crimes, but a part of me feels like I deserve it. It's the voice that wants to drain them dry for them to feel my pain, and it will still never be enough. It will be so bad that it will end them.

At times, I feel exhausted and long for an end to my pain by the blade. On other days, I experience unfamiliar emotions tied to recurring dreams of a man and a wolf, influencing my writing and artwork.

So much tension and nowhere to separate it for what it is, so much to unbox never enough time always on borrowed time never the clock in my favor.

Bed rotting is something I do on the days when my broken heart is a factor in the beginning but now I cry like I'm being drowned in six feet of water but part of me is thankful for the pain. I feel like if I'm in pain I will create something and I won't be forgotten.

But most days I feel like reality is slipping through my fingers, I feel insane in a way I can't explain, and at this point, I don't mourn Lore and my connection I just hate being alone, but deep down I know this is good for me and I need this to stand on my own two feet.

Concentrate my attention on something to avoid going insane because of the thoughts in my head that will not leave me alone.

To honor them, I must convey that they won't visit me in agony until I can't comprehend. Some days, I'm speechless and choose to embrace unsettling thoughts and feelings that haunt me.

Being haunted by the living is more terrific than being haunted by the dead.

At least you know there a spirit has unfinished business, with mortals on earth it is different.

 What do you do when the thing that haunts you is someone who is still breathing?

 Where the blood is to continue to flow through their veins it is to mourn a soul that is still breathing, living, and experiencing.

It's a wicked thing to know that there is a phone call that you can make, that the person can be on the other side.

 But knowing deep down that person and you are no good to each other or they're no good for you.

Also, that person has brought you such trauma with no return address, so now you have to be stuck with that. 

Dealing with the damage and continuing to work it out so it won't consume you all together.

Some days seconds feel like hours and hours feel like seconds for others. They blend together like artists do on canvas with paint it feels like an endless time Loop of the same thing happening over again it becomes mindless after a while.

Some days the words just flow out of me with the paper and the ink coming together but some days it feels like I'm being bleed dry with so many thoughts and not enough time.

It reminds me of a time I read, 'Falling in love it feels like eating glass then I expected not to bleed out.'

 I didn't scream this when I should have.

But the way Lore treats me is engraved into my soul and from that experience alone has shaped me in a way I didn't expect.

I feel used for a cause I never really knew, I feel like a puppet on a string some days I don't understand the cruelty that was done to me.