Alone in a Private Hell

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Alone in a Private Hell

An amicable soul, in some ways childlike

Unadorned and understated, sometimes silly, never frivolous

In some ways always lonely and misunderstood

Now trapped within a mind like a house long abandoned

Where the light of love cannot touch the soul-crushing loneliness

~Cie~

Notes:

We are currently not participating in blog hops although we still like to use the writing prompts. 

I personally am not really up to doing much in the way of return visits, and it's kind of rude to ask people to visit me if I'm not going to visit them back.

I'm also not much up to having me or my work be scrutinized right now. 

I'm sick and tired of being the crazy person getting the conciliatory pat on the head. 

"There there, Crazy Cie. Isn't it nice that you express these feels of yours through your art? Aw, how broken you are. So glad I'm superior to you." 

I'm tired of having it be implied that the way I feel is somehow wrong or childish or sick and twisted. 

I'm tired of having it implied that there should be a time limit on my grief.

I'm tired of it being implied that my every thought is due to my fucking brain chemistry.

I'm tired of being told that I shouldn't express my heart because the soul is an outdated concept.

I once had a (sanctimonious) person ask why I publish what I write if I don't want to receive "constructive criticism" on it.

Well, I didn't publish it for you, Asshole.

I publish it on the off chance that there's someone out there who's like me; someone who's adrift in a sea of misunderstanding, who may really need to hear what I have to say, to know that they aren't the only lonely, misunderstood weirdo in the Universe.

That is who I do it for.

Then I do something else.

I read it aloud to the man in the picture above. 

I'm not in the room with him, so I'm not reading it where his physical ears can hear it. 

I read it to his soul.

Because he's lonely and afraid and doesn't know what's happened to him.

So I hope his soul can sense that someone cares about him, and maybe he'll be a little less afraid and sad.

I do this, and I believe it may help, because I choose to believe it does.

The end.

He would actually get this better than most people. 

Which is one of the big reasons why I've loved him for the past 38 years, and will for all time.