Get a fucking grip
Feeling down. Not that it matters right? Deal with it, go to sleep, move on. Sometimes, or right now, I think I think too much about tomorrow when it's gonna be ok. And I convince myself it's ok to feel like that right now, because tomorrow will come and it'll be ok, I will be ok.
That's like thinking, as long as I live, and breathe, I will be ok, eventually.
And I'm not ok now, and it isn't ok to feel like that because I know. That this is not normal and I shouldn't, I don't want to feel like that.
But what is it that I feel? Not quite sure really. Loneliness, confusion, maybe I'm really just tired and I just need a comforting presence. Something I can bury my face in, grip tightly and squeeze with all my might, in the hope that squeezing somehow compresses this void into a singularity, and I curl into a tight little ball while enveloped by warmth even as I feel a breath lightly on my skin, and I sigh, and sink.
I don't want to think, I don't want to feel, I don't want anything. Except to be squeezed tight in this darkness and feel the warmth of another body and the reverberations of its heart against my back. And for the whimper to sneak its way out of my chest, the hot tears to trickle, and for a presence to hold, and feel.
But there is no presence, there is no warmth, there is nothing, and I have to go on alone. I hate ... not quite sure what it is I hate either. But there's anger, there's bitterness, and ...
I hate that I'm like this. I hate that I'm alone. I hate the circumstances that have lead to this. I hate feeling ... amputated. I hate needing, I hate this weakness. I hate myself for not rising above all these, I hate myself for not knowing what love is anymore, because it's become so drawn out and twisted over the years, and I can't, don't dare to, let myself experience it again for fear of what it brings.
It will never be what it was, I don't know how to go back because going back is like regression. How do you rise above an emotion that's become so twisted and fucked up and familiar, like it's so normal? You either go back to the same fucked up shit, or you experience something new if you dare, hoping it won't get twisted, or you don't feel; keep it at a distance, treat it as a joke and a game. Tell yourself it's intriguing and you only doing it because it's interesting and passes the time. And you concentrate on other more 'important' things until nights like this when everything rears their ugly heads and things fall apart slowly, slowly because you're so familiar with how it falls apart you're no longer surprised. In fact you stand there and observe.
Nobody understands where I am right now, nobody is where I am right now. But it's ok because nobody will know, not after I go to bed and tomorrow comes.
That's like thinking, as long as I live, and breathe, I will be ok, eventually.
And I'm not ok now, and it isn't ok to feel like that because I know. That this is not normal and I shouldn't, I don't want to feel like that.
But what is it that I feel? Not quite sure really. Loneliness, confusion, maybe I'm really just tired and I just need a comforting presence. Something I can bury my face in, grip tightly and squeeze with all my might, in the hope that squeezing somehow compresses this void into a singularity, and I curl into a tight little ball while enveloped by warmth even as I feel a breath lightly on my skin, and I sigh, and sink.
I don't want to think, I don't want to feel, I don't want anything. Except to be squeezed tight in this darkness and feel the warmth of another body and the reverberations of its heart against my back. And for the whimper to sneak its way out of my chest, the hot tears to trickle, and for a presence to hold, and feel.
But there is no presence, there is no warmth, there is nothing, and I have to go on alone. I hate ... not quite sure what it is I hate either. But there's anger, there's bitterness, and ...
I hate that I'm like this. I hate that I'm alone. I hate the circumstances that have lead to this. I hate feeling ... amputated. I hate needing, I hate this weakness. I hate myself for not rising above all these, I hate myself for not knowing what love is anymore, because it's become so drawn out and twisted over the years, and I can't, don't dare to, let myself experience it again for fear of what it brings.
It will never be what it was, I don't know how to go back because going back is like regression. How do you rise above an emotion that's become so twisted and fucked up and familiar, like it's so normal? You either go back to the same fucked up shit, or you experience something new if you dare, hoping it won't get twisted, or you don't feel; keep it at a distance, treat it as a joke and a game. Tell yourself it's intriguing and you only doing it because it's interesting and passes the time. And you concentrate on other more 'important' things until nights like this when everything rears their ugly heads and things fall apart slowly, slowly because you're so familiar with how it falls apart you're no longer surprised. In fact you stand there and observe.
Nobody understands where I am right now, nobody is where I am right now. But it's ok because nobody will know, not after I go to bed and tomorrow comes.