Angry Letter

Today I don’t believe in magic.

I hate these days.

I’ve lived 27 years of bad news. Getting worse as I go.

Now I can’t eat, can’t run, can’t sleep, can’t record YouTube videos, can’t seem to care about writing or pick a story to tell or find any characters I care about.

I can’t find any meaning in my days and I hate waking up in the mornings.

I hate these days.

 

I’m optimistic, stubborn, committed, I love life and want so much more out of it, and I will not give up. I’m driven, moody, sarcastic, creative, and I thoroughly enjoy organizing and bringing joy to others.

Just, not today.

Today I’m exhausted and in pain.

Well, that’s pretty much every day.

But today I’m sitting under a magnifying glass. It’s hard to have a few things that bring you joy – jogging, writing, creating videos – and not being able to do any of them.

It’s hard to live inside a body that punishes me physically, emotionally, and visibly for eating.

Today I am tired of always losing.

 

All it took was one special order light bulb shattering and the tears flowed all too easily.

Like they’d been waiting for a chance to be set free.

I can’t help but wonder what the point to me is.

I’m tired of all the noise and the pressure and the failure.

I’m tired of seeing everyone around me fight and fight and fight and succeed. It doesn’t upset me that they succeed. It hurts that I’m still losing. Because I work hard, I fight, I find new routes, new plans of attack, new paths to take, new reserves of determination. And I don’t get better. I get worse. I watch the window of what I can do shrink.

I know this is probably just self-pity speaking. Probably very petty of me to talk about how some days it really stings to watch people around me work hard and get places.

But I’m tired of always caring about everyone else more than myself. I’m tired of caring about hurting another’s’ feelings regardless of what it does to me.

I’m tired of hearing people tell me, ‘don’t give up, just keep fighting, I had this problem with my ____ and I did this about it, and it worked! So just keep going, you’ll get there. You just need some faith.”

What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing?

I’m fighting tooth and nail to be able to EAT FOOD and not suffer for it! That’s a base need right there. And I’m fighting for it. Every day. All I do is work hard. All I do is fight and fail and get back up and fight more.

What do you think I’m doing? Sitting around and bemoaning life? No! I’m fighting to have a life!

I don’t think about me. I don’t think about how much I hurt. I think about contributing to the world, to those in my life. I think about brightening someone else’s day. Lightening their load. Only it’s gotten to the point where I can barely freaking think due to pain and lack of sleep.

 

I’ve never given up. Never thrown in the towel.

I’ve had to overcome so much. I’ve survived a lot. I hope it’s made me a stronger person, a kinder person, because this world can always use more compassion. I hope my suffering somehow helps someone else or helps me in the long run.

But I’m growing quite tired of wishing, hoping, believing, trusting – Only. To. Get. Worse.

 

I mean, think about that.

Imagine working to be the best version of yourself possible. As healthy and emotionally mature as possible. Help others as much as possible. Enjoy life, create, inspire. Spread some joy so maybe even though my life sucks right now, someone else can feel good about themselves and their life. No one deserves pain. No one deserves to have to fight to survive. We all deserve so much beauty and empathy and excitement for life! Imagine wanting to help.

Only to have your body fight against those things. Nope. Simple nope.

Every day.

 

We deserve brilliance. The capability to learn from our mistakes and make magic out of them. To breathe fire into our own souls and allow that warmth to trickle into someone else on their coldest day. To stand as a beacon to the lost. Return home to a peaceful, exciting life we’ve created.

I deserve these things too.

I feel like a bird that’s been tethered to the ground.

Trying furiously to rise above medical limitations so I can focus on the magnificence of my own life, the majesty of this world, the glorious multitude of possibilities, and the vast amount of incredible people.

But that tether won’t let go. Won’t loosen its grip. In fact, it’s getting tighter, pulling me lower.

And there are people flying around me telling me to believe in magic. It worked for them in a short time span.

They tell me to have faith, to believe – as if I don’t.

Don’t you realize you’re mocking all the fight I’m giving? Do you see how you’re putting my efforts down? As if doing more is what I need to do, because what I’m giving isn’t enough. Don’t you hear the patronizing tone you’re taking? Get off your high horse.

Try fighting the urge to eat and then suffering when you do, so you cannot function or do anything that brings you joy – and no matter what you do, what you try, you only get worse. Since childhood. No wins. No successes. Talk to me then.

 

To all you who are suffering and fighting and only seem to be getting worse – I know you’re fighting. I know you are trying everything you possibly can. I know you’re hurting and exhausted. I know you’re of the utmost value, an amazing human being with so much to offer and a challenge in life that keeps you from delivering it, or from enjoying your own life in even the simplest of ways.

 

And of course, since all I can think about is this possibly hurting your feelings (talking to everyone reading this) – don’t feel bad. You’re not who I’m talking about.

I know when people tell me not to give up, they mean what they say. Thank you. For your encouragement and inspiration. This letter splashing my anger in a messy haze isn’t to you.

I tell people not to give up, to keep fighting. Encouragement is not offensive or patronizing. That’s not what I’m talking about. Being someone’s cheerleader is one of the most freaking noble things ever! We need more of it!!!

I’m angry at the people who act like I must not be doing enough, working hard enough, searching for answers enough. The people who keep telling me that if I believed, if I had faith, it would all get better. Magic. *poof* Obviously, they reason, I’m just not trying hard enough or having enough faith. I must not be thinking positive thoughts. Like this is my fault and I need to just get over it.

Those are the people this letter is about.

If anyone thinks I’m being selfish or self-indulgent with my pity party… That’s nice. I’ve had just about enough uncalled for criticism.

For crying out loud I’ve fought all morning and afternoon. Only now am I so done. I have the right to feel gross, to feel cheated. To feel insulted by people telling me I’m not fighting.

 

I know tomorrow – or maybe even a few hours from now – I’ll be back to believing in magic. I’ll believe I can and will overcome this. I know I can and will. But right now, I don’t feel it, don’t believe it, you know? There’s a difference, between knowing and believing/feeling. Today all I feel is the pain.

So, I want to allow myself to grieve. For so much lost time and lost magic. I want to allow myself to feel angry at all those who think I’m not trying or believing things will get better. I am allowed to. Just like you.

I think it’d be inauthentic to never expose these days. Pretend I’m doing fine and plaster on a fake smile. What’s the point of sharing anything of me with you if it’s all going to be made up? Everyone has their days. Me too. We need to stop shaming each other over that.

 

I am fighting. I am keeping positive.

And I do believe. I have faith. I always have.

Just not today.

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The Hollow Hearted Society

Weakness is masquerading as strength, walking among us with flashy muscles and a hollow heart.

What’s worse, is it rubs our noses in it.

What’s worse,

is some stay silent.

 

 

Weakness has slithered into our

Subconscious and rewired our sight

It has ripped from the corpses

Of its victims

And fashioned a strong looking Giant

It whispers

And we don’t turn away

We listen

We don’t fight back.

Is that why some join in?

For the lack of having to care

Exerting energy, compassion

The possibility of vulnerabilty

is it really

that terrifying

the a person would prefer

to burn another alive

so they never

have to learn what

a paper cut feels like?

 

Those who cry from the loss of a loved one

Or a life they thought was real

But found to be lies stitched together by the soul of one who

Pretends to have no heartbeat

-Them

They are eaten alive

By this instant gratifying, short lived pleasure dripping mask

This charade

That somehow

They are weak.

 

We are told the ones who are weak

Are those who fall down

More than once

And sometimes don’t tell

A soul

That theirs is slowly breaking down

And they don’t know what to do

 

We are told the weak ones

Are those who

Wake every day

With the knowledge

That their demons are still

Inside their blood, their skull,

In the marrow of their bones

And they have to fight them off

Again

and Again

And Evermore

Or cede one moment and

Never return to breathe

 

Those who feel

I mean Really Feel

And live like it all matters

Those who find life

Sacred

Worth fight for

Worth spilling would-be murderous blood

Worth dying for

Those who hurt

When another hurts

When a human is ripped away

From another soul

When a dog is

Tortured

A cat set on fire behind that building

Those who sob at home

When they see the pain

On the children’s faces

On tv

Those who ache

Because they can do nothing

For their love

Wrongly Accused

Wrongly Hated

Wrongly Treated

Battered and broken and treated

Like so much trash

Those who want life

But don’t know how to fight

 

 

Those who cry

Who hurt

Rage in their heart

Wish for some

Magical power

To make it all better

 

We are told that these people are the weak ones.

 

That the people who

Shoot for fun

Who hurt because they can

Rape like its a rite of passage

Lie to get what they want

Pretend they feel nothing

When inside

They are bleeding from every cell

That feeds into their

Battered heart

Hardly beating within a hollow

Cage made of bones and paper scraps

The people who give up on

Those who aren’t strong “like them”

The people who ressent those who

Hurt

Who can’t get back up right away

Like they pretend to

Who have to fight the same battle every day

Like they don’t bother to

Who keep getting hit with the same car

In their living room

Where there are no streets

No reason for someone

To drive through their home

And attack

Because they think it is fun

Because it feels good to hurt another

Because they no longer truly feel

Anything

But blood lust

And arrogance

An urge to strike

To force down

To hold mouths shut

and remove another’s power

 

We are told that these people are the strong ones.

Because they pretend they don’t feel

Until they don’t

Because they take what they want

By erasing another’s life

 

We are told that the people who are weak

Are the ones

Asking for help.

What scares me most, is when we believe their lies.

When we don’t stand up

We don’t cry

For people to see

We don’t step up to and beside those

Who have echoed what we know is truth

And speak truth with them

Even thought it is terror in our blood

And our bodies shake

And our hearts pound

But that’s the difference

We let the fear flow through us

as we stand for what we know

is hard

but right

What scares me is when

We don’t grab the hand

Of those who can’t find the words

Or the sense or the hope

And are seeking an anchor

A lighthouse

In another soul

So theirs doesn’t

Burn out

 

Like Gandhi once said,

“A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.”

 

We are all strong and we are all weak. Simply in different places and at different times.

To pretend apathy, hate, the cold heart… is strong, is to end any chance we have at a life worth living. At a world we can attempt to call humane. To pretend we are not who we are, is to put the gun in our own mouths, pull the trigger, and keep walking around, like we are somehow real.