Splintered Hope

On days where nothing makes sense. The clock stands still.  It doesn’t seem to move forward.  And it doesn’t seem to make a sound.  I look at the clock and I will my eyes to move the ticking hands forward. But it does not.  It stays stubbornly still. My eyes drift into space.  I reflect. I wonder. What is the purpose of all this senseless pain? The loss? The hurt? The upset? Why does everything have to hurt so much today?  Why do we even exist?  What is my purpose in this world??

Recognition made in a dark place, in a magical setting. Wondering when the soft touch of the sun will caress my cheek and remind me of a forgotten past. A past filled with buckets of glowing hope.  A past where I would skip down the road in utter delight.  But now I am just sinking. Sinking fast.  As the cry falls on deaf ears.  I wonder who cares?  Who questions if I am alright?  Who wants to talk to me? Who wants to ask how are you today?

Do they not see the sorrow in my eyes? Do they not see the sadness etched on my face? Do they not hear the pain in my voice? I am a broken woman. A woman with nothing to give. Helpless at writing useless words that have no impact or bearing on anyone. I live in a meaningless world, where the seagulls screech, and the black birds of the sky fly high as if the king of the deep blue hue.

My heart is shattering as I watch the black birds on their mystical mission to complete freedom.  I wonder when I will reach that place of complete freedom? Peace?  Where has time elapsed to? What has happened to me? Why do I feel this strong sense of lose.  This strong sense of peace before the storm.  It frightens me, and I want to not be a part in this play.

I am not a puppet in a play.  I am not someone you can just cast to the side, and say I’ll talk to you when I am ready.  I also need to feel that I am needed.  I also need to feel that I am loved.  I also need to be reminded that I am special and that I am important to someone. But the silence is like a punishment.

I do not like silence.  Once upon a long time ago silence was used as a punishment against me.  By my ex-husband. By my dad.  Whenever I did something wrong, silence i would get.  And I am getting silence once more, and it frightens me.  Its a punishment. And I am drowning in the pits of despair.  In my own displeasing world of hurt. Wondering when this silence will end? Wondering what I can do to make a difference?

Tumbling. Tumbling. Tumbling.  Tumbling into nothingness.  A place where only grief exists and holds you hostage, as you fumble to stop yourself from tumbling.  As you try and find that hidden key.  The key to open that door back to splintered hope.  Oh Lord I need you today. More than you’ll ever know.  I cannot cope with this silence no more.  Help me to hear your voice.  Help me to seek your face.  Help me to sit in your presence. Help me oh Lord.  I pray you hear me.  I pray you heal me.

So I watch the ticking clock, moving. Slowly. Painfully. And the silent tears trickle down my face into the vast emptiness of a meaningless life of non-existence. Splintered into a million pieces is I. Existing.  Just breathing. Life in a nutshell.

 

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