I suppose I never needed you, either of you, any of this. It was more the other way around, you needed me. Why? Well the reason will probably always escape me. That and I think your answers will no appease me.  And what you had hoped would be forever was in fact quite brief. To look back at the smiling round face, the wisps of straight black hair, and those deep dark eyes, you are left wanting. It is as if the smallish playful child has dissipated, vanished into thin air. What’s left is a smoldering, scornful heap. But I will make no concessions. I don’t think I have any reason to feel sorry, not the least bit for you.

What you needed was a child. Someone to share your existence, to love and nurture. Maybe to advance your prestigious name. You needed validation. However I maintain that motives alone no longer interest me. The fact and matters are all but too irrelevant and I am not to be concerned. No. How could I be at this point. Really I have come to see what it is that I need.

My needs are deep seated and relentless. Starving from the deprivation of a 22 year Iust and hunger for what I shall never have. It is the knowledge that is kept in our cells, bound in our DNA the truth that is in the touch. The simple recognition and familiarity of skin. The secret that lies in wait throughout the tiniest parts of our make up. That is what I need. The comfort that all new born babies know the second they are held by their mothers. The security that is gained by prolonged hugs and gentle caresses. The simple affirmation that I came from someone. No, something. That is what all creatures need. Even the soul understands this truth. But a perversion was made and I can never satisfy that simplest of needs.

But alas I shall ever be denied that basic need. For time is lost with each and every moment. And was it all preordained or were these lost chances brought about by choice. Is this god or destiny or fate?

I smear the past and mash the memory. Grinding, scratching, pummeling the essence of who I thought I was. But what is left, it is the now. It is me I say, but in only a whisper because I fear what I see. And I do not wish to breath anymore life into this beast. I am scared more and more with each and every day that goes by, but at least I wake to see another day.

I am trash. Disposable. Picked up at your connivence. Traded and bartered for. Written off when I don’t perform as advertised. I would equate my current existence to fast food. Used to fulfill a need in a short sighted situation and put in the bin when I have satisfied. However down the down the line when you have become overweight from suckling oh my existence  and  repeated exposure causes you indigestion, I then am a bane to you and thrown out. I won’t deceive that is what I feel like. Cheap, fast, and worthless.

And I always thought I was a superstar. I believed in my own hype, as if I would somehow transcend my own legend. Where are the flashing lights and the clicking of camera shutters and the cheers, where did all those things go. Maybe I was living in my own imaginary world, desperately trying to cover the truth outside my cave. i think that maybe I was lying  or maybe I was told lies.  Am I what they say I am? Did I step out into the world as it has existed around me, the one I just neglected. Is this how it really is.

I really am quite scared now. This darkness is very powerful and I can feel its heartbeat inside me. Day by day I slip farther into it, going deeper into its embrace. It coddles me and encourages all of the bad thoughts I have been having. But even now there seems no place left to go but down, down to where I won’t feel anything anymore.

I know they say you can’t find solutions without knowing the problem first until. I guess thats why I fall deeper into this. I do not know exactly where all of this comes from. This beast stand in front of my like a mountain that extends high up into the clouds and I know not how to approach it. I feel like I am going to black out soon, there is just too much. Everything twist in my head and my vision is blurry, but at this point all I can do is write what comes out, regardless of how incoherent it is. Don’t they do this in creative writing classes? Just write whatever comes out and don’t stop and only at the end will you come back and sort it. i guess that is what I am doing, but I do not feel so compelled to continue.