In the Belly of the Whale

​I have always been awful. Rot. Broken. A disease. 

I am an idiot for ever thinking I walked in the light of anybody. For ever thinking I was functional. 

What insanity inhabited my mind to ever think otherwise?

You’re not some “deep” person, walking through the gaps of reality into the stardust of beauty, the breathtaking universe. You even think that last sentence was so fucking poetic, right? That somebody is gonna read it and be like wow, how beautiful is her soul?

Fools. Anybody who has ever loved me is a damn fool. You sure had the wool over your eyes, sir or madam. 

Nothing to see here but a cancerous plague, ripping out heart after heart, leaving in her wake disappointment and wasted time that people can’t get back, time stolen by a thieving bitch. 

So pathetic is she that attempt after attempt to leave behind this world is not successful. But then again, when has she ever done anything right?

Time will march on. Her children will grow into their own, grow to hate her, grow to feel even sorry for her. Life will keep walking on her. Mediocrity will consume her. Monotonous days will crush her. 

And hopefully, she leaves the poor innocent souls in her life alone, safe away from her venomous clutches. 



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