DogEye
06-02-2005, 06:05 PM
<very emotional, I wrote it because it is how I feel sometimes, and no sympathy posts... i stress this... i have grown to hate sympathy, in fact if any appare i urge Woody or Mod. to please remove them>
The battle field is a cold heartless place, storms grip the area with fear and there is no way out. You are the enemy, doesn’t matter how right you are… it is your fault. True you didn’t ask for it, you can’t help it… it is who you are. Always lock in mortal combat till you suffocate because you can’t draw in one more breath. People pass you on the street and ask are you okay when you keel over from battle, shaken and exhausted… you feel like yelling, screaming at them “for the last ^%$# time yes!” but they are only strangers… they no nothing about your turmoil. You shun. You walk away. You distance yourself from these fools… you don’t want to hurt them. Even your family… though close and concerned… don’t understand and try to help in all the wrong ways… you feel smothered. No one is for you… there is ALWAYS a catch, always something… when one shackle brakes away finally another is always there to take its place. You long for one… one person to understand, to know how your feeling, to know you are not as cold and heartless as you seem, to bring a smile to your lips… not just a fake one you paste on every ^%$$ day you’re alive to make everyone think your fine… you aren’t, they just don’t understand… so you escape, escape to a land you know you’re the hero of and the enemy can be defeated, where rainbows contain magic and you hold a lighted sword… and though beaten and bruised, scared and singed you become… there is always hope that you will be mended to your full self and be the strongest &^% person to ever walk in that world and once you think your happy… reality sucks you back down… where no one understands no matter how much they care and try to help you in all the wrong ways and you feel like a trapped slave and they still ask every time you struggle to draw a breath, “are you okay?” and you can’t hurt them because you know the care but just don’t understand… and you are always confused because sometimes you don’t get it either…
It is hard to understand…
What it does…
Why it does…
When the enemy you’re trying to defeat is…
Yourself…
Cystic Fibrosis…
I won’t let you win…
The battle field is a cold heartless place, storms grip the area with fear and there is no way out. You are the enemy, doesn’t matter how right you are… it is your fault. True you didn’t ask for it, you can’t help it… it is who you are. Always lock in mortal combat till you suffocate because you can’t draw in one more breath. People pass you on the street and ask are you okay when you keel over from battle, shaken and exhausted… you feel like yelling, screaming at them “for the last ^%$# time yes!” but they are only strangers… they no nothing about your turmoil. You shun. You walk away. You distance yourself from these fools… you don’t want to hurt them. Even your family… though close and concerned… don’t understand and try to help in all the wrong ways… you feel smothered. No one is for you… there is ALWAYS a catch, always something… when one shackle brakes away finally another is always there to take its place. You long for one… one person to understand, to know how your feeling, to know you are not as cold and heartless as you seem, to bring a smile to your lips… not just a fake one you paste on every ^%$$ day you’re alive to make everyone think your fine… you aren’t, they just don’t understand… so you escape, escape to a land you know you’re the hero of and the enemy can be defeated, where rainbows contain magic and you hold a lighted sword… and though beaten and bruised, scared and singed you become… there is always hope that you will be mended to your full self and be the strongest &^% person to ever walk in that world and once you think your happy… reality sucks you back down… where no one understands no matter how much they care and try to help you in all the wrong ways and you feel like a trapped slave and they still ask every time you struggle to draw a breath, “are you okay?” and you can’t hurt them because you know the care but just don’t understand… and you are always confused because sometimes you don’t get it either…
It is hard to understand…
What it does…
Why it does…
When the enemy you’re trying to defeat is…
Yourself…
Cystic Fibrosis…
I won’t let you win…