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THE PEELINGS OF A WOMAN
I lay here in my bed at night facing the wall with streams of tears pouring from my eyes. Most of the time I sleep on a damp pillow, but I can't rest until the sunrises of the next day because that's the only time I can get my mind off of the pain. I lay here feeling like the peelings of a woman who was once happy, proud, and strong. Depression, anxiety, and life has brought me to feel like nothing more. Once, I felt like a person, now I feel like a form of mass on two legs roaming the earth. Clueless. I remeber when I vowed to not let anyone break my heart, break my spirit, or take away my smile, yet I'm here. Laying here on a damp pillow, I can't remeber the last time it was dry. I thought that eventually my eyes would get tired of crying, but like a bath tub they fill up and run over, but never turns off. He doesn't hold me anymore so I pretend that the blankets are him and I wrap them around me to hold myself. The sound of the tv doesn't put me to sleep anymore only the sound of my wails and pure darkness fills the room. I'd do any and everything to get mind off of the pallet of hurt that lays on me, but nothing works. Not the scent of lavender, not the stand up shows on Netflix, not even the steamy reads that I have on my night stand. I can't figure out why do I love the things and people that don't love me back. Whenever he is sad, upset, or hurt, I'm there. Whenever he's had a bad day, I'm there. Whenever life throws us a curve ball, I'm there, but now I'm here. In this room, I'm here and alone. With all of the love and care that I give, I'm the remainder in this bed. The wall and pillow have become my only source of support after days of taking on pounds and pounds of stress. I've become a writer that can't even write because the ink gets washed away by my tears. Words can barley form out of my mouth because of the pain that lives in my throat. I'm there and here, but alone. With so many people in my life, I would expect more than just a wall to talk to. With a man in my life, I would expect more than just a wall to talk to, but I lay here in this bed and in this room alone. With thoughts of suicide running through my brain, I'm left to fight them here and alone. No one knows about the restless nights I've had with a knife in my hand. No one knows how much I cry inside when I'm not in that room. No one knows how much I want to dissapear because I'm tired of laying here, in this bed, in this room, alone! I can't scream, I can't talk, all I want to do is cry until I can't cry anymore. I'm everything for everyone, but the peelings of a woman for myself. The most simplest task have become harder for me everyday. Showering is what I do to wash away all of my sad residue, but my soul is dirty. When I eat, I just want to ignore the fact that my stomach is empty and throw myself away with the leftovers. When I cook and clean, I just wish that I would be smiled at, admired, or kissed. When I work, I think about how much I wish the night wouldn't come because I know, I will be where I am now. Laying here in my bed at night facing the wall with streams of tears pouring from my eyes. Just like him, this room has a hold on me. I suffer, but my love keeps me here. I cry every night, but my love keeps me here. I'm the peelings of a woman, but I'm still laying here in this bed without a clue why I love things and people that will never love me back.
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