At last an explanation you may get
So much of me wants to rest. To finally be calm. To no longer feel sick. To just be. And yet I know I must be persistent in being the enduring person.
To as much of heartache I have felt today. I look forward to the end of it. I look forward to no more pressure inside of me.
Oh how I loathe the scents around me. Placed in this room, this cluttered space. Every time I close my eyes all I see is what she told me. I then pray to have that all removed. So that a night of peace finds me.
No more sickness. No more temperatures sky rocketing. No more of me pretending I am well when I am a faded mess inside.
Oh no I have issues with all that I said today, yet did you even know that I ranked high with fever. I got to 103.7 today. I walked in a cloudy haze. Traumatized by everything. And still trying to hold my head up.
Yet I don't mention the ravishing warmth and chills that assaulted me. I had thought I was getting better and yesterday was the turn of the worst. This very evening, a few hours ago I unloaded lots of blood from my stomach into my tub. So grateful it was not fleshy. It went straight down the drain.
So grateful to realize what I took in, accepted and not accepted in a day helped my temperature fall to 100.8. Yet the night time it has found the higher numbers of 102.4. I sigh longingly. I ache. I am tired. I am thriving but I am so exhausted everywhere.
The space I am in relates only that I am surviving because Jehovah wants me here. I have no more understanding how I could be any bit of sane from all that was placed in my delirious mind. My innards are only boiling at certain levels.
The chills I have roll over my skin. A constant brush of the wind over the tall grasses. Ever see something like that? And the burning of my throat and bones just make me slump. I tried to be assertive and show that I had great passion of hatred and displeasure of your mistakes and yet I really feel nothing. I really don't even have the slightest clue what to believe except that of my gut.
So many thing that echo inside of me. I am just ready to put it all down. Store it away. Pass it along into the darkest corridor never to stumble over it again.
Yet here I sit with ragged breaths of air. Shocked that my soul still is upright. Grateful that I am capable of explaining parts of me. Not that it matters that you understand anything I say. I just wanted how I am truly doing to echo in the wind.
I just want people to see that even in my strongest moments I really am weak. Only reason I am standing and not crashing to the floor is the sustenence of who I am. The backbone I once called pride and yet it is stronger than that. It is strength from Jehovah. That courage I asked for, is here. In the tickings of the one o'clock morning. The strength I asked for to hold me up through roughness, through sickness.
Thoroughly I hold no regret in speaking my mind. I was angry. I was in need of getting my therapy to the air. And now I just need a solid breath of air. No weights of iron seated on my lungs. No pullings of my spine. No. No need of desperation to be heard. Yet I do have them.
Tightness in my lungs, tiny breaths to feel. Loud banging against my organs. My spine cowers and demands to be wound tight. Then there is the raging fire from my nose to my chest. The pain of seeing contents of stomach fly from mouth and nose. Do not tell me that is a sight of fear?
Oh yet I don't ask for your empathy. I don't ask for your prayers. I only hope that I feel better enough, in days to come. That my temperature finally decreases significantly so the real pieces of me can be heard. Not the anguish and trembling parts.
So I say my goodnights to the hopes. I linger in the chills and fire blazes. I hiccup in the long shallow breaths. I say my eyes need to close. I look forward to a new day. I better day.
The soul is finally finding peace. At last.
To as much of heartache I have felt today. I look forward to the end of it. I look forward to no more pressure inside of me.
Oh how I loathe the scents around me. Placed in this room, this cluttered space. Every time I close my eyes all I see is what she told me. I then pray to have that all removed. So that a night of peace finds me.
No more sickness. No more temperatures sky rocketing. No more of me pretending I am well when I am a faded mess inside.
Oh no I have issues with all that I said today, yet did you even know that I ranked high with fever. I got to 103.7 today. I walked in a cloudy haze. Traumatized by everything. And still trying to hold my head up.
Yet I don't mention the ravishing warmth and chills that assaulted me. I had thought I was getting better and yesterday was the turn of the worst. This very evening, a few hours ago I unloaded lots of blood from my stomach into my tub. So grateful it was not fleshy. It went straight down the drain.
So grateful to realize what I took in, accepted and not accepted in a day helped my temperature fall to 100.8. Yet the night time it has found the higher numbers of 102.4. I sigh longingly. I ache. I am tired. I am thriving but I am so exhausted everywhere.
The space I am in relates only that I am surviving because Jehovah wants me here. I have no more understanding how I could be any bit of sane from all that was placed in my delirious mind. My innards are only boiling at certain levels.
The chills I have roll over my skin. A constant brush of the wind over the tall grasses. Ever see something like that? And the burning of my throat and bones just make me slump. I tried to be assertive and show that I had great passion of hatred and displeasure of your mistakes and yet I really feel nothing. I really don't even have the slightest clue what to believe except that of my gut.
So many thing that echo inside of me. I am just ready to put it all down. Store it away. Pass it along into the darkest corridor never to stumble over it again.
Yet here I sit with ragged breaths of air. Shocked that my soul still is upright. Grateful that I am capable of explaining parts of me. Not that it matters that you understand anything I say. I just wanted how I am truly doing to echo in the wind.
I just want people to see that even in my strongest moments I really am weak. Only reason I am standing and not crashing to the floor is the sustenence of who I am. The backbone I once called pride and yet it is stronger than that. It is strength from Jehovah. That courage I asked for, is here. In the tickings of the one o'clock morning. The strength I asked for to hold me up through roughness, through sickness.
Thoroughly I hold no regret in speaking my mind. I was angry. I was in need of getting my therapy to the air. And now I just need a solid breath of air. No weights of iron seated on my lungs. No pullings of my spine. No. No need of desperation to be heard. Yet I do have them.
Tightness in my lungs, tiny breaths to feel. Loud banging against my organs. My spine cowers and demands to be wound tight. Then there is the raging fire from my nose to my chest. The pain of seeing contents of stomach fly from mouth and nose. Do not tell me that is a sight of fear?
Oh yet I don't ask for your empathy. I don't ask for your prayers. I only hope that I feel better enough, in days to come. That my temperature finally decreases significantly so the real pieces of me can be heard. Not the anguish and trembling parts.
So I say my goodnights to the hopes. I linger in the chills and fire blazes. I hiccup in the long shallow breaths. I say my eyes need to close. I look forward to a new day. I better day.
The soul is finally finding peace. At last.
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