....LOVE ME TONIGHT?

As my mood faded from amazing to terrible, I excused myself from the company of people, my computer screen, and the background noise of the television. I'm sitting on my bathroom floor right now - balling my eyes out so hard that it takes a moment to catch my breath. I'm trying to be discreet, cause no one needs to share what I feel, or know this pain. Let them revel in their happiness. Let me suffer it all... alone. God is somewhere... somewhere in this little bathroom, so technically, I'm not alone at this moment. However, it seems an awful lot like it.

"It's just emotions, taking me over..."

So I'll sit here. On this bathroom floor mat. And cry myself to fatigue. I'm a half hour in, and my eyes still hold the atlantic. It's going to be a long night, believe me. But this isn't new. I'm prepared - I'm talking to an electronic device that won't talk back, and I have two rolls of tissue right beside me; 6 more in the bathroom cabinet just in case the night runs longer than two.

Living in the moment becomes impossible with all this fear; the fear of going back to a haunted memory. It could be as simple as intense loneliness, but it's taken my weight; it's taken my mind; and most importantly, it's taken my happiness. What's left is my sanity, and I'm afraid I'm losing that too. So there you go. It's fear. Fear that I currently feel and lament over. Fear that will become my reality in just a couple of days. 9 to be specific, but uhh, who's counting?

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now..."

Thought I'd end there but I'm 45 minutes in. Still here. Still crying. I should pray. God knows how I feel, but he should hear it from me. Yes? He should hear what this is doing to me; how it's chipping away at my sound mind. He should know that I'm slowly losing it. I mean, he does know already, but he needs to hear it. From me.

"...see I don't know how but power when I'm on my knees."

I took a moment to kneel at the feet of the Most High, but I didn't know what to say; I didn't know how to pray. I tried to just say how I felt, but words couldn't describe it. I tried to ask for what I needed, but I still don't know what that is. Exactly an hour in.

It's only the second of January. Didn't take long for 2013 to throw me a blow. I'm still crying. I'm still wondering. I'm still fearing. I'm still... praying. I should get under a duvet, shut my eyes, and attempt to get sleep's favour. Cause I'm 62 minutes in and I in no way feel better than when I started crying. Soooo, this isn't going to get better?

It's annoying how we can't choose what blows come our way. Then again, who really wants a blow? This is the hardest I've ever had to take. I have scars... and it's still wounding.

An hour and seven long minutes. Tears. Pain. Hurt. Fear.
Dear sleep, Love me tonight?

That's my attempt at capturing helplessness...as i do it.

~***shanpepe***~

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