Is this it? I asked. No reply. The subtle has turned blatant once again. I ponder the cruelty sustained as I endure another insult. My life flashed before me. Cruel. Deep dissatisfaction relived in present dismay. Now I internalize the question. Is this really all there is? Again there is no answer. Longing for something special to no avail. All my dreams have been dashed. Cruel. Isolated beyond any tender touch, and separated from my yearnings. Indeed others share similar cruel treatment perpetually. I truly feel for those caught in such a miserable existence. While to others this would be completely foreign to them. Time and chance happen to us all. To hastily say these scenarios happen for a reason would be na
ïve. Everything should not have to be hyper-spiritualized or philosophized. I have seen that everything cannot be classified under cause and effect. Meanwhile, I cry out never to be heard. I write journals as if they never occurred. I have so much life to live and love to give, but the cruel game has me in its labyrinth. No one really knows the severity of my pain. I do not expect any one to understand anyways. Therefore, I externalize the internal thru the means of writing. I have said it all before, but the present frustration demands a fresh entry. I personally scold myself for such redundancy, but it is in fact the pattern of this cruel life. I wish I did not have to complain as I do, but the disappointments would fully overwhelm me otherwise. It may be that elaborating on the present topic is counter-productive, but I am not convinced either way. I am hurting here and I make no bones about it. I type whatsoever I please just because it is one of the things I am not restraint in at all. I can’t scream or write the pain away, but I will not stop from doing so anyways. Distractions bring relief, but never the solution. However, I am fully embracing the distractions right about now.
By Dee K.