I'm not okay

When exactly did you stop loving me? When was it that you started loving me? Did you love me at all? The irony of the so called fate puts us together! Have we ourselves chosen the path and forgotten all about it at some point? What is the pain that births pain that births pain which leads to more pain, and suffering? A vicious circle, an endless loop. Stuck and suffocated, from too much lovelessness and too much lack. Lovelessness is a word, don't correct me. I know what love is, I know what loveless is, I know all too well what lovelessness is and what it does. 

Little girl oh little girl, just how oh how you've hurt me! It isn't your fault, you were just made this way, this is why I laugh and cry at our destiny, and my path. This most stupid, most pain inflicting journey. People behaving like robots, like broken machines, with disfunction in their centre, with a lafunction in their system. 

Too intense they say, I'm too intense, I'm a little bit too much, extremist, too alert, too present, too passionate, too vocal, too open, to abrupt, too forward, too sensitive, too many too's... And then for me, they are way too little, of everything. There is hardly much of them they could be fading, some percentage is indeed of them here, the rest... absent. 

The anger is boiling inside of me still, it isn't the emotional kind, it is deep sadness and frustration. 

Little girl you're not around anymore, I banter on my own in the mornings now, like a crazy old woman, crazy from too much heartbreak and aches. 

It isn't your fault that you were birthed to an already traumatized mama, but boy does it hurt, when you too need to flee, you too wish to offload, you too needed to escape, you too needed a life with different pace, with a different face, with different values, standards, colors and shape. 

I'm in that headspace again like a while back when I felt I was losing my mind, from excess anxiety and sadness. It's happening again now, everything is hazy, nothing I've ever lived was real, except from the brief moments when father was alive. That man, he sure was love.  

It's another stupid mornig, and the stupid sun is shining. I had my cold shower, aired the place, did the bed, tidied my room, did a wash, ordered groceries, prepared the office for a day of work. Fuck work, and the office, and the day, and the sun, and being alive. Fuck another day, and more days, and this lifetime. Fuck the expectations, the disappointments. Fuck attachment. Fuck enlightenment. Fuck this fucking life! Get me out!