Broken dolls destined to walk alone
A journey under the loveless moon
His sinister intention is to shine too bright
Blinding broken dolls by his light
Dreadfully alone wondering the night
Broken dolls from broken homes
Build broken homes of their own
Homes brining in the rays of loveless light
Revealing the pieces of their broken hearts
Fated to break loved ones hearts along the way
New broken dolls introduced to the lonely night
Broken toys for broken boys
Brings broken dreams void of joy
Broken dolls dreaming with fractured minds
Realities scars, damaged beyond repair
Within his mind he can only see the place
Where sinister moons light voided space
Broken dolls hidden in the trash
Away from loveless rays on loveless nights
The sinister moon and his lonely trails
Finally freed from the loveless grasp
But not before leaving tear stained paths
So all the dolls you broke can find the trash
Broken dolls are meant to walk alone
No more broken children left at home
The loveless nights, the sinister moon
Guaranteeing we will break real soon
Within the sunlight’s hopeful mist
Broken dolls will not be missed
By: Tim Lundmark
I try so hard
Not to become my fathers son
I try so hard
To be a father sculpted by Michelangelo
Painted by da Vinci
Faced with failure
To deny the truth
I am a father designed by an earless madman
I question are they better without
Trapped in a Divine Comedy
Inferno is Alpha and Omega
I wish there was a cure
Sadness filled with madness
Meds cannot take away
A brain still in pain
How do you apologize
When the illness lets them down
The more I write
The clearer it becomes
They may be better without
They love the mania
Hate the downs
Flick the switch
From mania to a ditch
Turning from this to that
They never know which dad I’ll be
Denying them the comfort of stability
Please don’t let them be better without
What am I then?
A cancer to my family
They know I am sick
They know daddy isn’t the same
Wishing he was someone else
Transparent they see what’s inside
They hate my illness
That shame and stain forever remains
They now question are they better without
Face-to-face with this question
Like a coward I hide
My blanket of lies
I am their painting of a father
A father my son doesn’t want to become
The question has been answered
They are better without
By: Tim Lundmark
This is a serious and troubling question I have been asking myself for 15 years; which yields a bi-polar answer. Regardless of the feedback and criticism I have heard over and over again during these same 15 years; I always tried to counter act the negatives with positive self talk. As a parent I have made countless mistakes and bad decisions, which only reinforced the criticism I was hearing. Through the years I have had to face some ugly truths about myself, and come to terms with the fact; I can no longer deny the validity of said criticisms. Like most people in the world I blamed others, and made justifications for my actions. Here is where things get complicated; I have never been 100% sure if everything I just said is reality, my wife’s subjective reality, or both. Up until recently I never really knew what to believe.
With everything that has been going on, the way I have fallen apart and the undeniable truths I have been shown I can no longer deny the question of if my children are better off without me in their lives. I have touched on this in a prior post, honestly I can’t handle going into detail on how all of these truths have come together. I have cried so much at work recently I can’t try to truly feel through and process the shame and guilt I feel right now.
In anticipation for the comments I will receive about how important it is for children to have their father’s in their lives; my only reply is they have never experienced living with a father you tried to pray to God would go away. I know this from my ultimate fear of becoming my father’s son, having this fear is proof I would have been better off without. Because of this situation I am fucking them up because I have fallen apart, I am fucking them up because I am leaving, and my wife believes because of my MI, and that I will be on my own the damage I will cause them in the future will be far worse than anything I have done to date. With everything I have done, why would I continue to cause damage to their lives?
I know how badly I have fallen apart at home, and in all honesty I feel things will get far worse before they get better once I leave. I can’t find any logical reason, to put my children through the coming storm.
As promised in yesterdays post; I am going to include a love poem describing the final lesson we can learn from a failed relationship. For all my long time readers you may find yourselves shocked, because this is one of the only non-dark love poems I have written. I am a bit out of my element here, I hope it translates well, and that it will paint the perfect picture from yesterdays post.
I held a light
For the very first time in my life
Illuminating a world of heavenly sights
Sights never seen in a life of perpetuated night
When I held this light
I noticed a twinkle in my eye
I felt butterflies give life to a beating heart
A first in my life
You gave me this breathtaking gift
I experienced how it felt to be loved
Through your eyes, I met the man I could never become
Blossoming feelings of blissful self-worth
Powerful enough to wash away the stains, of a life of pain
A first in my life
Your light opened many gifts
A lifetime worth of Christmas lists
Showing me I am more than just a broken doll
Your essence, was proof that angels exist
The first time I felt your angelic lips
I wished for time to stop instead of end
A first in my life
The happiest of my life
Twenty six years of living in the dark
Made me naïve of your light
The void of night, resents receding to the light
Machiavellian strategy in hand
That void of night patiently waits
For me to lose your gift of light
An unavoidable first in my life
To this day I still don’t know how or why I let you go
Extinguishing the light
Did complacency, give way to delusions
If I was worthy to feel an angels embrace
Why was I swallowed up by the familiar night?
Forever gifted with shadows regret
There are times I remember how things looked in the light
All those heavenly sights
The flutter of butterfly wings, and a beating heart
My reflection in your eyes, seeing the good inside
To know exceptionally beautiful angels exist
To give goodnight kisses with their heavenly lips
This is when my smile can be seen in the night
Memories and dreams are all that remain
During my brief stay in the light of day
Remembering your light
All the firsts in my life
To experience what life can be like
When you add something so simple
As genuine light
By: Tim Lundmark
Thank you for reading a poem which is out of my comfort zone. I hope everyone out there has either found or one day will find their genuine light.
My intended focus this week was to break down, analyze, and apply my methodology to three single events with the intended outcome of making the correct choice. Do I stay or do I go? I have repeatedly replayed the same haunting moment of seeing my son still and quiet on his bike as he watched me get in the car to go to work. In that moment I could see in his eyes the internal conflict between acceptance and denial that his dad is slipping away. I could see and understand all too well the sadness he was trying so bravely to hide.
It is difficult for me to release my sadness and sorrow through the shedding of tears. The only time the outside world can see what I try so hard to hide, is when I cannot hold back my tears. At that moment, just as in this moment writing about it I cannot stop the tears. Many people say that crying is supposed to be this wonderful release of pent up emotions. It’s not like that for me. Tears feel like razor blades running down my face, slicing through self-denial and exposing my weakness and vulnerability. Regardless of how many times I have been told I am selfish and only think of myself, at the end of the day my meaning in life, and my purpose is to not break his heart. I am well aware I will never win the father of the year award. To be honest with you I don’t even know if I’m a good father. Despite what I am told I know I have always tried to be the best dad I could be.
After the series of events that took place yesterday, or would it be considered today? I haven’t slept for days so time holds no logical meaning. After said events the only answer to my opening question; is to go. There are only so many pieces someone can be broken into before they are unable to be put back together. I now need to come to terms with the sobering reality that I will become in my own eyes everything I ever swore I wouldn’t. I will become my fathers son. I am desperately seeking, yet fear I will be unable to live with the guilt, or forgive myself.
Children are not stone, nor are they steel. They are dirt and clay, molded by the hands of experience. There is no way to reconcile the loss of my son’s happiness and hope due to the harsh reality of my life, which I have viciously infected upon my family. Despite my frequent mental transformations I made the decision to get married and have children; in that single moment I destroyed their lives. I suppose I was caught up in the perceived human need for significance, by my own sense of insecurity. Here is where I cannot deny my selfishness. Broken dolls are meant to walk alone.
In moments like this I want to hide within the minds of Soren Kierkegaard and Albert Camus covering myself in the blanket of Absurdism. Believing all struggles for life is for nothing. There is only birth and death, and everything in between is our feeble attempt to find meaning and purpose. This concept is wonderful, but in the back of my mind I’m burdened with this question. What if birth and death were only two points, that they were inconsequential compared to what happens between them?
I am currently burdened with this increasingly ticking clock looming over my head. I hear it every second of every day; sometimes it’s as soft as a pin drop, other times it’s so deafening it impedes on my ability to function. Loud or soft there is no escape it’s always there tick, tock, tick, tock. This metaphorical clock terrorizing my mind is the count down leading to the single most important decision I have had to make thus far in my life. Do I stay or do I go?
Regardless of how hard I try not to have this internal battle; I would question my humanity if I didn’t. I have spent 15 years of my life with this person, and raised three children with her. I would delusional to think, after 15 years there would be only happy times; that our relationship would be void of heartaches. I figure the best way to analyze this problem is through a Utilitarian view point. Which decisions creates the most happiness while simultaneously creating the least amount of sorrow. I have quickly learned that making a decision as a utilitarian when there are so many people involved is damn near impossible. What I have been doing is treating each situation as a single event. I observe how I feel inside; I try to imagine how those involved feel inside. I then proceed to estimate how many times such an event has happened in the past, and then apply the probability of this event happening in the future. This is the method I have been using to try and silence the ticking clock by making my final decision. Will this methodology sentence me to a life filled with tormenting regret, or will it be the key to unlock these shackles of hopelessness I have been chained to most of my life.
This week I plan on taking some of these single events; breaking them down as I have described above with the hope of discovering the answer to my question. Do I stay or do I go?
It has been over two years since my last post; in fact during this time I haven’t written anything. The reasons for this abrupt end are inconsequential at the moment, but will most definitely need to be examined in an attempt to uncover how and why my life has completely unraveled. The life I have known for the last fifteen years is about to come to an end; like all endings there is the inevitable re-birth. This is the saddest ending I have had to endure in my life, and the most terrifying beginning I have ever had to face. I am trying my best to understand and process all these intense emotions, but I find myself drowning unable to find the surface for a much needed breath of hope and understanding. For the last year or so I have been trapped in this painfully unsolvable riddle, and it has been eating me alive. I have experienced undeniable betrayal, but I have chosen to wrap myself in the comfort of lies. I want to believe the lies, so I don’t have to experience this gut wrenching sadness. In the end I was willing to suffer an eternity of sorrow just to hear the whole truth. I could at least begin to forgive and trust, unfortunately this was not the outcome. Ever the fool I would have stayed, but it was the unrelenting daily reminders of these lies and betrayal as if I was the guilty party that ultimately destroyed everything. I can’t sleep or eat, and I have been rotting away with each passing day. The only viable solution I can find to help me through the coming storm is to attempt to write again. I can say that a piece of me died when I stopped writing, yet ironically my writing also played a major role in some of the other pieces of my life to die. I need to return to this medium, because if I don’t I will never find the surface. Each day will continue to be more painful than the last; I need hope that tomorrow will one day hurt less than today. I believe this is my only chance of surviving this re-birth. My fear is discovering I have lost the ability to express myself.
<a href=”http://www.hypersmash.com/dreamhost/” id=”wH806″>DreamHost review</a>