Half Sent Prayers

   I hardly sleep. I hardly slept. There's a burden, there's a heavy weight on my shoulders I can never shake enough to make me weightless. I toss, I turn. And eventually force myself to get out of bed. The blankets on the floor, as well as my strength, I'm easily discouraged. Anger comes into play. Self pity finds its way in. It eats away every ounce of hope I have, every dream I've ever made. It throws it away, as if it never existed. I rush to find that one cigarette, I know I should never have. Hoping I'll find some clarity from the chaos the night handed me on a silver platter. I find chaos where I'm supposed to find comfort. I find sadness where I'm supposed to find happiness. Tears fall, on this rainy morning where I'm supposed to find my strength. As the pain travels through my body, I grind my teeth, hoping this rollercoaster will end. I time myself with seconds, minutes, and then hours. Knowing I have to do all the things expected of me, when really, all I want is to cry. I'm tired. I'm tired of having to try so hard to find some kind of normalcy in my life. I'm tired of having to beg for myself to be strong. I'm tired of these wasted tears that no one knows exists. I hide them away, knowing nothing that can ever happen, will ever change the situation or these emotions that eat away my soul. So these tears fall, only to soak my shirt, as the rest of the world continues on its path. I hate the nerves that kill me slowly. As a part of anatomy, you're supposed to ignore them through your daily routines. But its the inevitable that I often think of them, realizing how much they're killing me. I'm tired of trying. I've tried for years. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of sending God my half sent prayers, hoping he'll answer one of the thousands I've sent. He never has. I've begged, I've pleaded, I've promised to do everything good. I've promised to never ask for anything ever again. But none of my promises, begs, or pleads matter. Because there's not a single person or a single thing that can possibly take this burden and weight off my shoulders. So I'll sit here and cry, realizing how my day is going to be, how my life has been, and how it's going to be. And I'm angry. I'm so angry I have to deal with this hell. I'm so angry I have to cry and in an hour I have to be "normal" in a society where everyone strives to be perfect, something they're not nor will they ever be. In a society where they think they have it bad, when I feel the fire of hell everyday. So when they tell me how bad of a day they've had, I console, and secretly think..you really have no idea what a bad day is. I'm angry that I have to sympathize for myself, where there are so many other things wrong in this world. I've lost my faith in miracles. Because I've begged for one, I've hoped for one, I've dreamt of one for so long. I've never seen it. It amazes me how someone can possibly have to feel this kind of pain. What kind of life is this? Why should I even try? The hell with it. Why should I have to find strength when it seems invisible everyday. Why should I have to wake up in hell everyday. Why should I have to deal with this. Why me. These are just words, they mean nothing. Because none of them change the way I feel. They don't lessen the pain. They make the waterworks even faster. My strength.... what strength. Strength is imaginary. It's non-existent. It's life. That's what it is. You get hit with bad things and you deal with them. There's no strength in that. THAT'S LIFE. So I'll continue on with my day, because I have to. And when I'm done faking and pretending like I give two shits to the faces that need that in their life, then I'll go to bed. And this time I'll skip the half-sent prayer, because the only thing you can rely on is your feet to get you out of bed. I'm tired, I'm angry, and I'm done dealing with this shit. This is pain and this is what it does to a good person.