Cease to Love- Journal Entry/Memoir Excerpt

I told them with words, I showed them with action; Each and every one of them! 

Did they think I was exaggerating? I had to prove it. 
I cannot cease to love nor do I wish to. I only wish I could have had the strength to carry them all. 

To press my lips to their despairing mouths and breathe peace into their lungs.
I want to nurse them back to life; my little bit of hope into their shrieking veins. 
Cradle their lovely, mad and weary heads. 

I do not, act upon these desires, not anymore. It has been a long while now. 
Like everything else in my life thus far, I had to learn this through much error.
 It was not successful, I would have done more damage; To myself first then to them as a result. 
Then I would be another example of doom. A doom they believe they are fated to. 

I was bleeding out myself, bound against my true desire, my very nature. 

Suffocating on screams with no sound. I had to breathe life into myself first. 

That doesn’t eradicate the sorrow I feel when I think of them, or worse, when I see them. 

The apathy or sometimes anger I see in their eyes. 
I know it wouldn’t be there if they could see rightly. 
I tried to clear their vision. It did not work! My attempt was only met with suspicion and angst. 
How can you tell someone you love him or her or even show it?  
Someone who does not know what this kind of love is? You can try but it will be for naught. 
The danger in this act is very real. I have tried before. You just live; hoping they see their worth.
You must love those who are receptive to this love.

I am still stiching myself back together; My sutures are still recovering.
 I have a feeling they will always be there. 
Just dangling loosely, taunting, wanting to be split open again. 

This is why I have to keep my love tucked inside when they are near. 
They will recognize it and respond the only way they know how. 
I once had the same response to love,  it is innate unto this daemon.

They will sabotage it before it is able blossom. 
That doesn’t take the sorrow away.

I feel traitorous at times. I was told by a therapist this is called “Survivors Guilt”. 
When I described that I should be dead.

 “The Doctors just did what they were paid to do! That is the sole reason that I am still aliv.!”
 I shout at her with mascara laden tears that irritate my eyes.
 With shallow and quickening breath I cry out, 

“What gives me the right to walk away and leave them out there to die?” 
Yet I am safe, for now; From myself above all.  I will go on and sort it out. 

Shift my perspective or try until I see clearly, or something of it’s like.

 I write, I breathe then things make a bit more sense. I do what I must. 
I survive. This is a battle to the death and now I fight for my life. 
Then I worry later; Peace comes and peace goes. It is not mine to keep, it never was. 
I do what nourishes my soul. Though it still feels alien at times, I do so regardless, I must. 

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen