My Confessional

I love heavy metal. I feel like I'm locked in a cell [ which is me ]. Looking out, to a slow motioned world spinning around. While bass drums and electric guitars play. Sometimes if I listen closely I can hear the black and white keys playing. I love heavy metal. The more my heart beats, the more the music keeps playing. Until, I wake up in the middle of the night, to face that mirror [ I try to avoid as much as I can ].I love heavy metal. I get scared before I reach the bathroom door, I can feel my heart, my scars, bruises and pain blooming as if it were the first day of spring. I love heavy metal. I try to ignore it, the feeling but I just can't. Because the moment I look at my tormenting reflection, memories come flying back to land in my mind; to land on my heart with pressure. With hard pressure. I love heavy metal. I...I still hear the music playing, getting louder and louder. The guitar playing; playing tunes of songs that I listened to in my dads living room as a child. I'd spin in fast circles, so fast that I'd get sick to my stomach. I love heavy metal. I can't help but think- If I didn't think my life was so perfect then, that it wouldn't be so shitty now. All I needed was a doll. A beautiful backyard with swing sets to play in. A dad. A mom. To feel warmth in my heart. To...feel content. I love heavy metal. The music keeps playing, this time the piano keys are louder than the rest. I hit the age of 8, and my dad wasn't there. He left. For someone else. A better wife, a better daughter and a better family all together. A family that would let him slip, and get away with feeding his cravings here and there. I love heavy metal. I don't have as much childhood memories with my mom as much as I do with my dad. And him not being here makes it all worse. Because, all I have are those memories that land on my heart and use it as a launching pad when they want to flee. I ... I love heavy metal. I got older, I hit more problems. I have to live...with myself. Knowing that I tried taking God's power away, by attempting to take my own life. I have to live with the fact that...I've done a lot of bad things. Lastly, I have to live with...out my dad. He's the main problem here. All the problem I'm running into head first now, are the problems he warned me about, while saying he'd help me out, by being by my side with all of them. And now I can't even get a hold of him. He loves heavy metal too. I write to get my feelings out. Feelings that I don't want to be up front with. Stuff that I can't verbally tell the world. I write...to get through my days OK. I love heavy metal. I write because words with always be there, sentence structure, and grammatical forms will always be there. Paper, and ink...will always be there. You can abuse the pen while venting to the paper with every single problem you have. And yet...the very next minute later, that piece of paper is in the same spot, not judging you. That paper is still your friend. Paper, Ink, words and sentences are so dependable to a person. I .. still love heavy metal. Even though the music stopped playing.