Ocean Of My Own Grief-Personal Narrative

Probably out in the city of my dreams, light and stars, everything seemed to be perfect in my eyes. But the truth is, ashes are covered by people’s smiles, secrets, and sweet words. In the bright streets, souls are trying to find their purpose by running with fear and hope. Fear to find their path and to fail, to drown without achieving it. Yet, hope to find their real self that is bury underneath the world of deception. Hope in knowing that there are truths hidden in the

My lungs filling, loving, holding desperately to the leftover crumbs of yesterday’s sorrow, yesterday’s joy, tears, echos, hearts not broken but shattered, dreams not discarded but miserably abandoned.

My toes were numbing and sopping wet, as a result of frigid water seeping over the uppermost part of my Muck boots as I waded around in the shallow water, scrambling for the best angle on the pull string. The hunters with me griped and complained about chapped lips and windburn in the twenty-two mile an hour north wind. It didn't help that the air temperature was only twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. We anticipated an excellent day when the first two wood ducks of the day arrived. I caught a glimpse of them hitting the water, and routinely turned to crank the Yamaha outboard.

And I saw you, holding yourself in the dark alley. Eyes filled with tears and agony, and emptiness slowly consumes you. The silence between us is suffocating me. My body starts to tremble and my knees are shaking. I wanted to touch to gave you warm but the night was too quiet. I felt numb.

They thought we'd go down without a fight, but they were wrong. So very wrong."

Every morning, I would wake up in peace, relieved, and untroubled. As soon as I could hear the my mother’s footsteps, every word that

I often wonder what it would be like to feel alive again. I spend most days walking through this haze of life, people seem one dimensional no substance ,words fall flat. Encounters are meaningless. I long for and seek with much disappointment, adventure. I am loured by beautiful words and soft looks and find later that's all there ever was.

I know something is there but I see nothing, no one. The vivid memories and promises haunt me in my greyscale nightmares. But why me? I close my eyes and ask myself will I wake from these traumatic times or is this just the beginning. As I drift off into a bitter, lonesome sleep I’m numb to the pain. I feel you by my side, but how can such a heartless monster be so comforting. All the lies and broken promises seem so insignificant as I feel so empowered to the bursts of energy pumping through my body as you stroke my hair and you gently kiss my forehead and tell me no one else can determine your happiness, happiness comes from within; and before I get the chance to say I love you, you vanish with the handful of trust I had in you fading. I cry for help. I cry out for someone, anyone as I die in darkness. heartbroken and alone. I feel the end nearing and I clinch my fists and close my eyes as I prepare for the horrific impact of fatal depression and i exhale only to inhale a sense of security. Love, beauty, confidence, I feel it all. Not only do I feel serenity I feel you. You came back for me just like I hoped, yet that hope is the same thing that killed

I felt my foot sink in a little for ever step I took. The small crackling of the gravel setteling in the the empty spots comforted me. I took a deep inhale and the cold air shocked my lungs, I liked it. I let it out through my mouth and watched my breath, everything was beautiful. My eyes squinted as I glanced over at the sun rising, my eyes started to water so I closed them for a bit.

I was always alone, left to drown in my own thoughts. I felt like my own home was a prison. It had seemed as if every day, I was digging my own grave deeper and deeper. Killing myself without the intention of actually doing it. And to

There had seemed so many opportunities and Katlego but now those opportunities had been dulled there was still stored away they would never go away but they were lost for he immediate moment she knew her job was a to acquire a wealthy husband and elevate her family. Neighbours opposite and around her had proved indigenous ideas taking loans to buy toilets off the rich and providing a fee for entrance. the hot sun rose my destiny was secured i daydreamed into throw goal of my life, the things i would do , I was woken suddenly and sharply bought back to reality the remembrance of death there was no room in this society to morn for death but each one still hurt. the hot sun the constant covering in dirt it all mattered but it was ignore or die, the women next door had recently suffocated. stopped to care. but there was not time as i worked from day to dusk selling things with the little english i picked up. cost me my dinner one week like this and i would be

A ways away from a town that I call home, I found a happy place. I often find myself walking through the park by myself. The beautiful trees, the way the yellow and red leaves crumple under my feet every step I take. When the flowers bloom and how it's the most spectacular sight you could ever imagine seeing, all the different colors that appear. When you breathe in and you get this smell of purity, you feel free and alive. Sometimes I like to sit on the old wooden bench where the bench frame is a little rusted, and I get rid of my thoughts and my eyes search the sky. In the winter the icy breeze makes me shiver, and the cold air I take in, is like sitting in front of an air conditioner and breathing in. Some mornings the sun beams across the sky, which is not quite blue yet, but the sun has almost fully risen. When the wind blows, it grazes over the blades of grass. Some days I just stand and take a deep breath in and I can taste the spring. When summer comes around, and the bees are buzzing, and the hot sun beats on the back of my neck, I lay on the soft grass and listen, to the birds chirping a beautiful song, and the kids playing in the park. The sky is the bluest view in sight.

It’s a cold October evening, the sun low in the sky, the moon rising the east. I sit on the edge of some railroad tracks, dilapidated wood struts creaking under the weight of rusty metal beams and abandoned train cars. There’s the sound of a languid stream 20 or 30 feet below me, running perpendicular to the tracks. I look to my left, down the tracks and into the distance, remembering the many days and nights spent here with her. We’d look to the sky at night and talk about the stars, or sit in the shadow of the cars on hot summer days. All that remained of those golden memories was the eerie sound of emptiness, a brash juxtaposition against the happy days gone by. She and I were so close, a friendship forged in the fires of adolescence

It was confusing. All thought lost. All she could think about was the lonely world she lived in now. The ground lacked trees and grass, the streams lacked water. The sky lacked stars. It was black.

Wounds had reopened, pieces of my heart had gone missing and the sun raised for everyone else but me. The dark hole where I was living had no communication access with the world or myself. I felt persecuted by feelings that I’d never felt before – I felt empty on the inside. It all felt like I had entered a cardiac arrest a long time ago and no one had done anything to save me… not even my dearest friend, my deepest love ­– the man whom I loved so much. Clouds full of tears, a heart full of thorns and a life full of devastations was all I was working