October 2011
11 posts
Heart don't fail me now.
I know why people want to die.
Our hearts are evil—desiring what it should not and refusing what it should; even worse, inflicting incurable pains through its own misdeeds.
It is responsible for it’s own aches. And yet has not the wisdom to comprehend this, nor the capability to mend itself alone.
And because of an unstable disposition, a distorted state of mind, and our instinctive tendency towards survival, we begin to target that which, by keeping us alive, is killing us.
Micah Robles
September 2011
22 posts
“I’m not really okay. Is that okay?”
—Micah Robles (me)
“It’s a process. Everything is a process. But really, the problem for virtually anyone who’s trying to recover from virtually anything is that a milestone for that individual may mean NOTHING to most people. Seriously? Give the people who are trying a break. One day, tables will turn.”
—Micah Robles (me)
Nothing can warm you (when you're)
My emotions, unfortunately, have no off switch. Detachment has never been my forte. And pretending to be alright has always been the cruelest of punishments for me.
The ache in my chest is real. Too real, sometimes I can barely breathe. There exists no heavy stone where my heart’s positioned.
There lies only a vortex (I call it “the void”) that leaves me cold to the bone.
Acid
Is there such a thing as forbidden pain? What happens within us when our hearts grow heavy with want? And our longing cripples us?
When all you once knew and believed is distorted by a hurt you cannot comprehend.
What happens within—that even breathing becomes a task? How could something, not made of glass, break? And yet, ruthlessly keep you alive? And how are we able to celebrate one moment, succumb to despondence the next?
What happens within us? What chaos exists in our souls? That what beats to keep us alive only succeeds in tormenting us? And death can become the more humane experience?
How could the heart love so deeply knowing it subjects itself to deeper pains? How could time heal our wounds when every second of independence has become a tiresome struggle to keep sane?
Is there such a thing as getting well again?
Does such a thing exist?
Or have even our hearts adopted a mere medicinal cure—wherein symptoms are alleviated, but we are weakened just the same? While there is numbness and relief, we are being poisoned with by-products of what is supposed to kill our pain—not our souls.
The relief can get us by, but it can never make us whole.
Micah Robles
“Then there are the people who believe in love but do not believe that they are worthy of it. You find them moving from one destructive relationship to another. What they call love, any reasonable person would call abuse. It’s almost impossible to understand why they choose to stay in those relationships. You can’t seem to talk them out of it. If you dare say anything about their partners, they are the first to defend them. They are held hostage by their need for love. They are made victims because they don’t believe they deserve love, so they settle for whatever they can get.”
—Erwin McManus, Soul Cravings
“Keep on drivin. You dun learn howta drive if you dun drive. Same shi’ wit the rest of life.”
—Faith Hapt
