CW long ventwriting: i lost a lot of things

There is a content warning on this post. Click this to unhide the post.

i lost my dad,
my mom,
my brother,
my granddad,

i lost my innocence,
my anger,
my sanity and my patience,

i lost my school,
my job,
my home,

i lost my language,
my culture,
my religion,

i lost my notebooks, that i padded with pages of art,
my notebooks, that i padded with my sorrows,
i lost my games and my tools of suffering too

i lost hope and drive,

i lost skills, thoughts,
i lost friends.

i lost my body and i lost my brain.

i lost a lot of things. and for those things i want to grieve.


but i lost my grief too.


and so, what comes out of me, it's not grief, not really, but a stricken imitation of it
the result of a brain trying so hard to feel what it knows it is supposed to feel,
that thing that lost its humanity, but not its shame,
that thing that lost its mouth, but not its screams.

what comes out of me, is screaming
i lost pain, and so i scream a hollow scream, a hollow scream of the pain that should be there
a horrified scream of the void, like what you hear when you stare into a deep well,
or maybe it's just me that hears the deafening silence

i scream a hollow scream, and then gasp and pause. Take a breath. Pause. Why are you here? Why are you screaming? There is no pain. It is lost.
It is lost. i realize it is lost and i scream again

And sometimes it pushes me to cry
but i lost my cry, and so i cry a hollow cry,
a hollow cry for the tears that should be there
a horrified dry cry, that sounds like yelps and choking
Because there is no cry. It is lost.
i realize it is lost and

and

and i repeat in an endless cycle
every path leading back in on itself because i lost all my other options

and i get told, these things were taken from you, you didn't just misplace them
but what am i supposed to do with that information
they tell me to hate. to hate hate i don't have
they tell me to grieve. to grieve grief i don't have
they don't tell me to forgive. but i try to forgive, because that sounds like what an Alex would do, is forgive, and the other options are lost

but i lost my forgiveness. and so i give a hollow forgiveness, not just to those that made me lose myself but for the little things too.
because giving forgiveness first means acknowledging that you are worthy of not being mistreated, being secure in that worth, and then giving who mistreated you that small deliberate allowance for the sake of compassion.
but i lost my humanity, leaving a hollow husks behind, and husks do not have worth

i say i try to forgive. but i don't, really. i don't try to forgive.
it seems like for everyone else, either they forgive or they hold a grudge or anger or hatred.
i don't hate the people who have taken me from me. i don't have the privilege to have the ability to hold a grudge. i just want to live my life
i lost my grudges, my anger, my hatred, they have taken it and i couldn't care less.


i just want to live my life.

but i lost my life. and so i live a hollow life, a hollow life that's very similar to me in that it's a husk that sometimes looks great from the outside
and in this sad, sad life is joy, and happiness; i have not lost those
but they are so deeply conditional that sometimes the pursuit of them feels in vain

i keep trying, though. i keep trying.
even when it's all bleak, and i don't have any drive, i at least keep trying a little.
because joy and happiness and even just contentment are achievable for me. i can taste them, always so close
and when i've lost all my other wants, that's the only thing left for me,
i would count it as a win.

and i really don't want to come back and say that i lost.