its starting to get very lonely.
the walls swirl in around me and i shut myself off. lately i've been spending my time scraping the dirt off my skin. now i can live through my dreams, and last night i dreamt the sea decided to take me by the fingers and these carcinogous sun beams and all the snow that has collected your soul can melt away and you can be new. and i'm going to be there when you step out of your shadow. and the plane's not leaving if you're not staying. and the wind's not blowing if there's words you're not saying. and i'm not going to stand in this terminal forever.
you wake up and the ceiling is white and this is unbearably hopeless. hopeless, like a glass falling in slow motion from the counter and metal bedframes and a seven year old girl crawling out of a sixteen year old body and sobbing into a pillow. you lay awake in the dark and listen to sad music and you find no solace because tears cant mute pain. this moment of shallow breathing and only managing to keep one eye open is an equation of twenty four hours and three apologies and the boy's heart you broke and the constant reminder that ventricular damage is the kind you can't tape back together. a model of indifference, this is where your lion-hearted attempts towards resurrection yield to white ceilings. this is where you realize that faith is vacuous and hope is a deep red, you are the lonely protagonist who does not become the champion of the world in the last pages of the novel. this is where you lose the fight, this is where the hero curls up and dies.
i like to be alone, i like to keep the curtains closed, i like dark rooms. i like to read and drink tea by myself in the middle of the night, i like silence. but there's a certain point when i stop listening to myself breath in the quiet hours of the morning, when i stop thinking about how this inhale&exhale is keeping me alive. when i start thinking about the unbearable number of people i have lost. lost in a general sense, a spiraling loss of love, friendships i have misplaced and misused, those i used to pass on the street in the hallway every day that i can no longer recover. i start thinking about how many people i have ever spoken to and how many people i can't remember even if i wanted to and how many people that could have touched me and i turned away. there are so many lost faces.
i have been sick for too long now and it is becoming harder and harder to hold on to my thoughts. everything inside me has been frozen for so long and this sickness is creating a thaw, sadness is melting all over my hands and clothes and papers and blankets and kitchen counters and bathroom sinks. i hate feeling like this, like everything is unraveling and i am being torn into little tiny pieces and thrown out a window and i will stick to someone's shoe or fall down a drain in the street or dissolve in the rain and i'm never going to be able to pull myself back together. i am not giving up or pressing razor blades against already scarred wrists and i am not weighing my reasons to live against reasons to die, i am not hopeless. i am just sad.
i throw up, unable to agree with my stomach, daily. sit on my knees in front of the toilet and retch and vomit and cry because i am alone. cry because no one is there to give me a glass of water or a washcloth the way my mother did when i was little. i sleep for a few hours each night, cry because no one is there to rock me to sleep or hold me while my hands shake or to hang on to when everything slides out of focus.
i have felt nothing for months and now i cry too often. everything is impossibly blown out of proportion, magnified a thousand times through a dim light and i can't get a closer look. everything keeps spilling out and i try to keep it all in, this catharsis, i am so scared that it will end and i will not be renewed, i will just be calloused and dry and very far away from wherever it is that I'm meant to be.
you wake up and the ceiling is white and this is unbearably hopeless. hopeless, like a glass falling in slow motion from the counter and metal bedframes and a seven year old girl crawling out of a sixteen year old body and sobbing into a pillow. you lay awake in the dark and listen to sad music and you find no solace because tears cant mute pain. this moment of shallow breathing and only managing to keep one eye open is an equation of twenty four hours and three apologies and the boy's heart you broke and the constant reminder that ventricular damage is the kind you can't tape back together. a model of indifference, this is where your lion-hearted attempts towards resurrection yield to white ceilings. this is where you realize that faith is vacuous and hope is a deep red, you are the lonely protagonist who does not become the champion of the world in the last pages of the novel. this is where you lose the fight, this is where the hero curls up and dies.
i like to be alone, i like to keep the curtains closed, i like dark rooms. i like to read and drink tea by myself in the middle of the night, i like silence. but there's a certain point when i stop listening to myself breath in the quiet hours of the morning, when i stop thinking about how this inhale&exhale is keeping me alive. when i start thinking about the unbearable number of people i have lost. lost in a general sense, a spiraling loss of love, friendships i have misplaced and misused, those i used to pass on the street in the hallway every day that i can no longer recover. i start thinking about how many people i have ever spoken to and how many people i can't remember even if i wanted to and how many people that could have touched me and i turned away. there are so many lost faces.
i have been sick for too long now and it is becoming harder and harder to hold on to my thoughts. everything inside me has been frozen for so long and this sickness is creating a thaw, sadness is melting all over my hands and clothes and papers and blankets and kitchen counters and bathroom sinks. i hate feeling like this, like everything is unraveling and i am being torn into little tiny pieces and thrown out a window and i will stick to someone's shoe or fall down a drain in the street or dissolve in the rain and i'm never going to be able to pull myself back together. i am not giving up or pressing razor blades against already scarred wrists and i am not weighing my reasons to live against reasons to die, i am not hopeless. i am just sad.
i throw up, unable to agree with my stomach, daily. sit on my knees in front of the toilet and retch and vomit and cry because i am alone. cry because no one is there to give me a glass of water or a washcloth the way my mother did when i was little. i sleep for a few hours each night, cry because no one is there to rock me to sleep or hold me while my hands shake or to hang on to when everything slides out of focus.
i have felt nothing for months and now i cry too often. everything is impossibly blown out of proportion, magnified a thousand times through a dim light and i can't get a closer look. everything keeps spilling out and i try to keep it all in, this catharsis, i am so scared that it will end and i will not be renewed, i will just be calloused and dry and very far away from wherever it is that I'm meant to be.