Another day. Pain. I wish I had more to say except pain. Fibromyalgia. Allergic reaction to another food, feeling sick and lethargic. Haven’t gotten out of bed fully. Withdrawals off medication. What a mess. Wanting to get things done all the time, exhausting my brain. I don’t want this. Limited to under ten foods I can eat…

I am confused. So confused. Who am I?

Weak limbs, numb limbs, floppy limbs. I feel like I am dieing.

Another cigarette, another this and that. I am sick of them. I wish I had another option to cope with the pain and trauma left behind.

I feel like I am stuck on an acid trip. Be careful with what you take, especially at a young age…

Feeling misunderstood and bored.

Smelling the neck of yours, the musky, earthy and raw scent lifts my spirit. Making love to you in the morning and connecting deeply are some of the only things I have felt grateful and appreciative towards today. I wish I could do so much with you, but my physical space vehicle does not allow me. The pain and frustration in my eyes I hope communicates to you how sad I am I cannot do things with you that I should be at such a young age. I am in my twenties and yet a cripple.

Meditation, my mind spins and spins round and round, a chemical imbalance that won’t stop. The pain in my body makes it unbearable to sit still. Yoga, today every movement makes me want to scream. Chronic pain and an old lady at twenty, great. Never did I think my life would be this way.

My head and soul and body is a mess.

Part of me wants to obliterate myself, the other knows it is not the way.

Why am I here? What am I doing?

Days are going by, it is October tomorrow. It feels as if time is speeding up. I don’t know where I am going or what I am doing. The future I do not know. The past still haunts me, PTSD. The present is unbearable. I am trying. I am trying. I always feel as if I am not doing enough. I want to help people yet I cannot even help myself.

The misery continues under a smile, a smile to brighten others around me, a smile to try and lift myself. But I know I am not happy, I am screaming inside, I am ripping and shaking and numb and panicky and fearful. Anxious. What a mess.

I wish I could think clearly. I wish I had my life back again. I wish I could have my soul fully embodied, not split by trauma and the ignorant use of psychedelics and who knows what more.

Am I dead yet? I can’t wait for death.

Life asked death “why do people love you so much but not me?” And death replied “because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.”

A boy asked his mother, “why do all the good people die young?” And his mother replied “which flowers do you pick first in the garden?” Her son said “The pretty and precious ones.”

I hope I die in my sleep.

-DiosSoulRelics 30/09/20