Battling

We all battle in our own ways. Doesn't matter how, but we fight. Right now I am a couple days into a serious slump. It helps for me to know others understand. There is nothing I want to do less than ask everyone to look at me, pity me, or listen to me feel sorry for myself. This is not my intention, my intention is to make record of how I feel, for selfish reasons. It would be nice for my whining to help someone, but I do it because someday I won't be around. Time flies by quickly and if you leave no record, their is nothing for others to read but fiction. I want to leave behind something even if it is memories portrayed on the internet for others to experience. I am just so tired of having to sensor myself for others benefit. Their are things that have happened that I will never be able to talk about over the internet, they are things that are not meant to be said in writing, things that make my own hands shake while thinking of them. But I want to be honest. I want to be known as a guy that even perfect strangers know. I don't want secrets, secrets crush people from the inside out. Ask an addict of anything what secrets do. I was little and I used to sleep on the top bunk of a set of bunk beds. My mom used to sponge paint everything in the house, so I used to draw shapes with my fingers around the walls trying to sleep. I fell a sleep one night while doing this and I woke up to this guy trying to zip my sleeping bag up over my head. It was my moms friend, but every peek I got of him as I struggled, his face changed. I saw shapes, I saw what I believed to be a monster, he was a monster. I struggled, but was not strong enough and I went limp to open my eyes to nothing. He was gone. Every night since i battle. You want to know why I am writing a blog about this at 3 AM when I have kids and work to get up for. That's why. Later into my teen years I experienced my friends committing suicide in which I had the joy of seeing. Sleeping was finished for me. Now nightmares until i got saved, I dreamed of demons, of death, and of awful things. So I drank a lot of booze to sleep, and after a case of beer, I would sleep and dream dreams that would mean nothing to you. I would get in the night and paint eyes all over my walls and graves and poetry. I would wake and not remember a moment of it. You wonder why I tried to kill myself? I got saved and God did away with most of the nightmares, to His glory. But because you are saved, it doesn't mean the battling stops, I think the contrary. When I say I can't let it go, I really believe it. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of smiling for a couple weeks, then tears for a couple more. I get so lonely sometimes that I just pray that someone else feels the same, just so I am not the only one. loneliness is a friend though. At least in the warped mind of this zombie. I hate it with every vessel in my body. Yet I cannot imagine life without it, because then I don't think I would feel anything during my bad times. I need to feel. Not feeling reminds me of trains. Which I also hate and love. I saw a counselor once. You want to know the two things he told me? "I am amazed that you are alive," and "You should go back to school." I think I get the school thing, he wants me to put my mind on unrelated things. But to tell me he is amazed I am alive? This guy was a psychologist, how does it amaze him that I am alive? Anyways. My eyes feel heavy, my heart feels heavy, this load and burden feels heavy. Sorry I have nothing of humor to say today. May God bless you. Also for those that do not know me that well, I am OK. I just need to write some things down without proof reading them.