Then Nothing

The Pit

Hard rock and jagged edges. Tumbbling stone and hurtful rocks. They leave long lasting scars running down my body. Digging deep and causing lasting nerve damage. I'm not alone, as there are many other people who have been thrown down this pit. "Your fucked up" "You don't act normal" "You arn't even a real person, no one would act the way you do" The rock hurt more then their words. Their pathetically small words ment only to sting my pride. Pride was a laughable concept. I lost my pride years ago in the tourture system that they called school. Fighting every day with a small group till finally I was free. What did I get after that? Well what I thought was love is not, no apperently the way I feel is a broken. Broken like a raging alcholic or a meth addict. Addicted to love or as they have taught me was pity. Drug filled adventures, and a life filled with smoke and fog. Can't see myself anymore can't be myself anymore I'm just an accessory to the person. I'm just a bag to be owned, just a hat to be worn, just another person who is tagged. I welcomed the mania.

Handing out candy to people, thinking that anything is possible again, it was and is my life. Not to be defined by my illness but still I'm proud of it. I like it, and i like being able to get high without popping a pill or doing a line of white something. I begin to climb. My hands are cut for I have no gloves, my feet are bleeding as i have no shoes, my body gathers more scars and the bugs and flys swoop in to devour the bleeding gashes that make up my body. Still I climb the mania pushing me higher the hope that there is someone waiting for me at end of this. Friends I  meet also climbing we go up together.

Now almost at the top there stands a man, and he is just a man. Nothing more nothing less. He doesn't want to be anything other then who he is. I know this man. I have seen him many time before. I reach out for him.