I feel guilty. I hate feeling guilty. I believe guilt is a tool of religion to keep people in line with how other's believe they should live. Yet I am feeling it because of my own feelings. Are these feelings selfish? I guess other's would be shocked to hear my feelings. They would die to feel my feelings. Feelings are feelings. I don't believe I have much control over my feelings. Sure someone else was in a terrible accident near my home. I drove by it with my girl. The car was mangled. The son was life-flighted to Boise. He is hurt but he is going to make it. Seems fair? Seems right? If you could feel the rock in the pit of my stomach. The nausea rising up in my throat. I should just puke. My legs like jello, wobbly. My head is swimming in a cesspool of mumbled squalor. Nothing is explainable, in fact this life is nonsensical. God am I that bad? God, what God? Rhiannon she didn't make it. Dead. Cold. Gone. That wasn't quite enough though. My son next. That was a car accident too right? But oh that God of yours he must LOVE me so very much. Hate. Dead. Cold. Gone. Should I be angry that Loughlin was taken and not him? No probably not, but I am. I am pissed.I know it sounds like I wish he had died but if you believe that you haven't ever listened. I don't want him dead. I want my kids ALIVE. It's not one or the other? or is it?
I could use something to numb this existence. My mind grows weary. My heart has lost far too much blood to keep up with the beating. My soul is tattered like that of the beggars shoes. My hands shake for I know not what to do with them. My eyes blurred from the tears. My ears have deafened for I tire of your lies. Let me be. Let me cry. Let me feel sorry for myself. I think I can do that once in a while. I don't deserve but I don't give a shit.
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