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Simply Weak

Created on 2003-12-30 20:05:00 (#1738379), last updated 2007-06-12

950 comments received, 1,404 comments posted

Basic Account [Gift]

352 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 2 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 6 Userpics

Basic Info

Name:	Cris
Birthdate:	11-24
Location:	Madrid, Spain
Website:	Layout Credit

Bio

Take a look into her soul, pull a veil of lies aside as hollow eyes lead you deep into the abyss. Fooled the world with the broken smile, no one ever realized that her eyes had lost their light. You pushed her towards all the addictions, and simply watched as she fell deeper. You never realized how much your words killed her; never realized the truth. Now all pretenses fade away, the fog clearing away revealing a lost child searching for sanity; searching for an escape from harsh reality. All she ever wanted was to be good enough for you...

~The perfect daddy's girl had faded away and in her place stood a lost soul, pain etched on her face. I turned away from the mirror; tears burning my eyes. No. Only weak people cry.

Paint Brush
By Bettie B. Youngs

I keep my paint brush with me
Where ever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn't show.
I'm so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you'll do--that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I'm afraid I might lose you.

I'd like to remove all my apint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you'll be patient and close your eyes,
I'll strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.

Now my coats are all stripped off.
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love me with all that you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.

I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy,
In case somebody doesn't understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true,
But please let me keep my paint brush with me
Until I love me, too.

Forgiveness... I'll hold on to the fragile slice of hope and keep it close, remembering that in each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We're each of us our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We've got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there's an awful lot of gray to work with. No one can live in the light all the time.

Open you eyes. Fathers can willfully hurt their children. They can be addicts too weak to give up their vices, no matter the pain it causes. Mothers can turn you invisible with neglect. They can erase you with a denial, a refusal to see. Friends can deceive you. People lie. It is a cold, hard world. I do not blame others for retreating from it into a madness of their own choosing.

I'm running because I can, because I must.

Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.

dislaimer: Quotes from Libba Bray that I slightly revised and combined

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