“God doesn’t hear me anymore…if he ever did.”
If he ever knew my name, by now it’s been stricken from the list. Because a story like mine can never be allowed to exist. Not really.
My prayers fall upon deaf ears..down a set of stairs…and right off the edge of the earth.
You can’t catch them. Nobody ever will. My thoughts are ghost cats, sliding silently down the side of a mountain – once spoken, then lost forever.
God doesn’t hear me because he never took the time. Just planted me amidst the religion crazed and belittling robots he produced and forgot I was there. When I was insulted, and pushed away; stepped on, beaten, broken. Made to feel worthless.
Where were you? You and your fucking Footprints bullshit. If somebody I knew did such a shit job of “carrying me” when I was going through a difficult time I’d tell them not to bother. Because if that’s what support from you looks like, you can go to hell and stay there this time.
Am I angry? Yes.
Why? Because I will never have a “normal” life. I won’t get married, or have children. I won’t start a family or drive kids to soccer practice or go on family vacations or visit relatives for the holidays. I don’t know how. And no matter which way you try and fit all these broken pieces of me back together, it’ll never work. Too many small pieces. Too many parts missing.
No way to go back.
Well, good work, Dad. Another job well done. So tell me, where are my reasons for getting up in the morning? When the dust settles and you realize that there was only ever dust to begin with.
Breathe in, breathe out. Pretend that everything’s fine – at least on the outside.
One day you’ll see the blood that’s on your hands, not mine.