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Jaime.
Not just name, but a definition of everything I stand for.
No other word can describe the extent to which I see and feel the world. Growing up, and still growing I learnt fast the worlds a cruel and unforgiving place. Turning from all I was left with myself, cold and alone.
My trust in people in shatters; like the windows, plates and glasses thrown across the house from my childhood. I turned to myself once again, blocking all else from my innerself. The shield I left to guard my emotion from people and myself, left me empty and alone.
The sence of claustrophobia setting in, the looming shadow over me, which I once looked to for protect, was now to be my tomb.
Growing wery of people. The people I once called friends, the ones there to cut the rope when you have no escape, only to stab you in the back when you turn. I refused to let myself feel, or care for anyone else. For in the tomb, there was only room for one.
My incarceration ended when I found one person. This one person who i could trust my heart and mind too. She was, is, my best friend. I could never love another the way I love her. She and I have both faught our past, and grimaced at the future. Finding each other, and finally being able to feel as if I could trust humanity, I could stop living in the solitary confinement i had excluded myself too, I began to grow.
Now I accept the past, it can not be changed. I still judge people to an extent, normally first impressions. The site of what they wear, who they talk too. Its a little prejudgice, but its all I have left of the great wall that surrounded me. The sentry to locate danger, or someone unworthy of the words I entrust them with.
The surface shows the person I let myself become, I'm social, because I crave feelings I once never knew. Now I found Her, I'm scared to be alone. My dark moods do find way to the surface occasionally, and when they do Shes always there to calm me. Without her, I fear i wouldnt have made it this far.
Cracked to insanity or worse.
I try to smile, forget that which nags at my mind. Pointing fingers and whispering the deceit the person before me plans. I try to be kind, to make up for every person I ignored, and tried to once help me, only to be faced with the wall around me.
And most of all, I try to be accepting, people do make mistakes. Those of which who sincerally regret them, should be given a chance to prove it.
Within the heat of passions war
Lust is spilled upon the floor
Staining red the wasted metaphor
The selfish need for something more
Claws in vain at closing doors
Scarring faces once adored
Tracing circles in the violet prison
For violent visions
And so the broken record plays
As you throw us away
Violet-The Birthday Massacre
