It's ok if it only bleeds on the inside

If I gave you all my money would it make you love me more? If I failed at life, if I had no chance, would it make you that much better? I wonder almost constantly what I can do to be what you want...and when I fail, and I always do, I go searching to please everyone else. Am I pretty enough? do I clean enough? are my children always happy? It doesn't really matter because in your eyes I am just an obstacle. A hurdle you just cant quite jump. Your words cut like razors. Just a small slice that spreads wide open as soon as the blade pulls away. But its a pain you wont let me feel. Stuff it down, hide it away...it's silly, its immature, it's not real. I cant help but wonder how much one can take of the illusion of hurt. Is there a breaking point if the weight isn't really there? It's all a matter of perception and yours will never match up with mine. The material world has a hold on you that no amount of love can free up. Sometimes I wonder, due to the extreme change, if the memories I have are fabricated. If your smiles or encouraging words were ever really there at all. Maybe I have existed as a disappointment or object to resent the whole time. Failure follows me like the cloud you taught me so much about. I climb and I climb to reach the top of my own self loathing pit only to see your foot at the top waiting to kick me back down. How do you have so much power over me and then seemingly none over yourself? So what can I do but accept life for what it is, I am nothing without you yet I will always wonder if I mean nothing to you.

Just a place to start...

Time flies by like I never believed, although we are all warned as soon as we even mention wanting children. Not just the years but hours, minutes, seconds. And with that flying time goes little pieces of myself flying past too quickly to even notice they are gone. You find a moment, maybe two, to sit down and think about the past. About who you were, or are....if there is even a difference. I have deep internal conflict about whether I have changed or have just gone through necessary evolution to adapt to my surroundings. I had books upon books of ramblings written by myself all from a 2 year span of time so long ago. Insightful, dark and deeper than I think my mind even goes anymore. Am I so littered with Dora the Explorer and which brand of wipes work best that there is no time to maintain a true self? It's all my doing, and I love what I have, what I have made and the people that have helped me get here. But I do grow tired of the fake face. The one I have to paste on every day to looks like a "good mom". The false pefection that nearly every mother, and maybe some dads, feel compelled to put forth. I am human....I feel things that arent pretty to say and I do things that Im not always proud of. With one giant leap I cant come forth to the entire world and say "fuck you, this is who I am" but I suppose with one little blog that only my facebook, or google+ or whatever social network becomes the trend, friends will notice I may be able to hold together a shred of sanity. I cant be sure whats going to end up here but if you want to know whats behind those single cryptic sentences I blurt out and dont explain I would imagine this will be your go to place. Enjoy....or dont