The Stars

Written During my First stay in the oh so lovely Cedar Springs.  (really though for a facility like that it was probably pretty good, and some of the staff were pretty amazing.)  One of the patients was helping me with my writing, he had me write a list of words then write a piece with them.  He was a really good writer.  My list of words for how I felt was; confused, numb, desire, overwhelmed, lost, weak, lonely.  Here is the piece of writing that was created.


The Stars
I'm lost in a swirl of mist, numb and alone.  Trying so hard to care.  Up and up I float.  maybe I will see the stars, or maybe my vision is already too obscured by the mist surrounding me.  I used to fight the numbness, now the only pain I allow is the pain shooting up my wrist.  I am too weak not to give in to the emptiness.  Overwhelmed by living I let myself go, hoping that maybe the current I ride will dash me against a rock again and again.  Until it all fades away to nothing.  Weakness describes me, loneliness is my friend. The last rays of desire in my now desolate life confuse me.  Do I encourage the small desire for more, or just give the numbness free reign? I just want to see the stars.

I really want to write a book called either "The Stars" or "Glitter on the Horizon" or "The Space Between Words"

Basically the book of me, I'm almost afraid of writing it because who knows what I might find.  Or finally say, writing has always been the voice I felt I didn't have in real life.  I said everything that I wanted to say, but couldn't.  I'm pretty perceptive, I have always known my problems fairly well.  Which has never been an asset, rather something else to keep people at a distance and to use in the construction of my mask.  I'm not really afraid of what I'll learn about myself, I over analyze that in fact, more about what people will think of what I say.  Who truly likes hearing the truth?