i wish…

 i wish i was a 9…how i wish i could just whisk away everything with a single thought and then just try again, align the pieces all together one more time and give this thing we call life another try. I wish i was wiser than what i think i am, i wish my words would help people instead of hurt most, i wish i could write about how great the world is, and not how better it would be without me.

I wish i had found the meaning to why i’m doing this, to why i’m trying, to why these tears make these make shift canals on the sides of my face and why no one is there to rub them away and say everything will be ok. I wish i was older now, i wish i had passed this ridiculous time of loneliness, i wish i had a son or a daughter, i wish i could keep my mind occupied with their well being, their safety, their love, rather than have it occupied with simplistic thoughts of non existence, to make these ideas end, these thoughts of grandeur, this simplistic testament of how "great" i am, or of how "great" i one day will be.

I wish i didn’t have these stupid dreams of greatness, these thoughts that i can become something to the world that i so blindly love, that i will be able to show love in witting, because i feel it and truly experience it. I wish i lived in my own make believe word where words still meant something, where a hug was still the simple most greatest thing to get when you were sad, when an ice cream sunday could liven up your days as it would a child, i close my eyes and i see my dreams and i wish to be able to plunge myself in them, to purge myself of this ridiculous so called reality where i have loved where i have been devoted where i have been a son and a friend and after all been pushed aside because my best is never ever good fucking enough…

every note is a reminder, each one is another mark at my heart where the pain has come, am i not also a man? am i not loving, have i not show that i am capable of anything for those i value and hold dear? What has been my mistake, has my judgment been so erroneous for so many years that i have simply lost the ability to see who are those that are like me? Maybe no one is like me, maybe i do walk this path alone, maybe that is why i want to be a writer, because it is my only so called connection to those around me, to be able to make them feel something when they read me, even if it isn’t what i felt when i wrote it, maybe that is 3why i feel so at home when i am miserable and lonely, maybe my life is meant to be this sad pathetic excuse for one, how else could one treasure love if one has lost it, how else could one say they value friendship if they have always had it, how can one truly say they feel if they have never felt pain?

Gallantly i place a facade upon this face of mine, or at least i think it is, more hypocritical than anything if you tell me. I have hurt so many in my life, i have done so much wrong, that nothing that i have accomplished means anything because of it, my life can be spent helping everyone and it will still be nothing…because i will hurt as i have in the past, because i will lie as i have in the past, i will fall short of the expectations held up of me as i have in the past. I love dreaming because it is the closest i can get to a reality i belong in…i feel my hands and they feel cold and empty, all i hear inside my head is the constant yelling…YOU’RE WRONG! YOU’RE NOTHING! YOU CHOSE THIS PATH! I TRIED TO HELP! YOU SHUNNED ME AWAY! FUCK YOU! YOU HURT ME! HOW COULD YOU! WHY WONT YOU STOP THIS! JUST END IT NOW!…but its drowned out by the everlasting pain in my heart, who am i to say that i have loved? who am i to say that what i speak is true? no one. Maybe i’m wrong, maybe its all just some fucked up dream i have yet to wake up from, maybe it isn’t…maybe its us…i wish i was a nine…