Thoughts of illiterate desire delude my attentions constantly, rewriting my intentions and stranding continuity. The plain writings of my past make me lose sight of a greater goal where I have found solidified love a necessity. Which is something I have yet to find sadly, but within a mash of allure I adopt devotion in the ideas of time. What I have found though is hope, which was something I lacked for quite a long time. Hope that I will one day attract something greater than my feeble will and polarize my past desires. For life truly allows for very little unless meaning is constructed and nurtured towards the end goal of true devotion. Maybe I am being a daft romantic, but the idea of non traditional monogamy truly seems ideal to me. Having someone to depend upon and someone who you grant complete and utter trust to. A person who you can cry to without fear of malicious judgment, and provide comfort before the waves crash down.
Placing hope in chance is all I can do for investment in uncertainties will undoubtedly destroy the hope that I have fostered. Although I may seem strong or solid, I am not, my sanity resides upon a crack filled floor housed above an eternal void of instability. If I neglect repair and decide to abuse I am sure that my shaky base will crumble and my undivided beliefs will be forgotten. I am lost at sea and need to find a decided shore that will accept and understand my refuse.
One of the things that most upsets me is when a misinformed says I am doing well or says that they are so glad that I got well. As if they fucking know what I go through every day, the struggles of belief and restless needs. I send attention towards release and overt loss, for there are many days where I relapse to a time when I longed for darkness, when I needed the stark silence of death. These times harken up ideas that I need solidarity in order to hide my corpulent composition.
What I mean to say(in short) is that many believe that my depression has faded, but they fail to realize how encompassing it all truly is. My intellectual flaws are something that I must endure every single day and telling me to release hope is more destructive than any may know. I do not know where I will fall and flail, but in this moment it is certain that hope is my greatest drive and concurrent weakness. It leaves me open to erosion and delusion, and similarly also allows happiness and meaningful desire passage. Unrelenting muster may be my greatest achievement thus far. Disallowing inherent opposition I attempt,
Nurtured Beliefs of Desperate Angles
Left for meaning the poor desire was eluded,
Fondled and twisted by outside forces,
They were told of an unlikely recovery,
So without a care it began,
She rewound time upon the stars,
And realized the true meaning of concise devotion,
Unbeknownst to the majority it was conceded,
This single illusion carried out by the many,
And the few who seek punctual solidarity,
Were released to the frigid grasp of death,
Combusted fumes leak from their corpses,
Driven to exhaustion by depth of consciousness,
Philosophers knew little of what she pursued,
For they deluded into a loss of ambition,
Meaning not to destroy,
Lost within a singularity,