To those who know me, know me.
It seems to grow more every day. This ulcer, in my heart, my mind, my soul. This wound which profusely excretes depression and anxiety, emotions all in general bad. And through my veins does it cause me to lose this will to be, that all living things should have. It started in my legs, the Sloth, laziness, as many know. The foundation of excuses building together inside of my mental, block by block. Closing my eyes I can feel the weight of every brick laid upon me, and I feel it in my chest.. Like I'm not allowed to breathe anymore.
It next began in my arms. Deleting posts I wish I could send, apologies left eaten, discarded due to negligence or pride. My will to exercise has dropped as well, though that is not too much of a concern to others, it was one of the greatest, wholesome activities I held up for quite some time. And to think those around me would've known, with how rampant this bitter heart rages, something was wrong. Why didn't they notice?
This poison, which stems from my heart, consumed me. And I rot in a reality which I am not meant to be in. I had a future, a precise line of goals, columns of achievements I paved a way towards- all ripped from my loving clutches in the snap of a moment.
And such is life?
To those of Faith, wanting to imagine that it was punishment I can assure you most greatly it was not. Because only until now have I acted out of humble nature, just in order to survive, sometimes even. I was so good, I WAS SO GOOD. And that is what angers me so much. This pathetic action in my life, throwing me down an endless depth, leaving nothing for me to do but slowly feel how painful it is to breathe anymore.
I was going to be a Marine. I was a strong, independent, man of God. I held life and love more sacredly than any other person I've ever met. I paid my dues, showed my graciousness, all for the dagger of random to be placed into my lower back. Only now do I see how ironic that statement is, considering the next topic at hand.
I was going to be so much, and now I am nothing. Beginning from a hip injury, which was brushed off by all those around me, convincing my own paranoid, reassurance-hungry self that my minor injuries would indeed pass. Three years go by. And now some days I will wake, NOW in the basement of my friend's parents' basement (Which I humbly appreciate every day, regardless of how depressing it is), with this immense pain, so great sometimes that I might not even rise to the day for another hour.
Have you ever felt that? To be handicapped? To rely on others for sustaining even self confidence anymore? I am NINETEEN. NINETEEN YEARS OF LIFE AND FRUITION FOR THIS?
Days I wake and I go to work at a simple job, which forever will feed off of my poor, miserable ambitions. I can see them, sometimes, starving, asking for any chance from a holy Father which chooses to neglect me. I grow both angry and depressed at the fact that now, when I am meant to go out and live, I am strucketh by ailment, which when everyone else labels temporary, has remained permanent for three years.
I tire of talking about myself, and I suppose I shall leave it at that. No, there is no happy, sunlit conclusion to my story. Hopefully, not yet.