sideways.
"I can't do much else," I said. Hesitate.
It smells dirty in here. Like shit. The clothes can't find their own way to the basket and my hands have been too busy finding songs to make this more understandable. How am I supposed to understand? All the words keep replaying in my head and I can't even begin to reason.
"You are a piece of shit. You are a piece of shit. You are a piece of shit."
Peace and shhhh...
Only wishes, I suppose.
Maybe it's not the clothes that smell.
I wanted to be held so badly. Before my eyes could cry, she was yelling. How could anyone hold a piece of shit? Without compensation? I guess I've found my reason.
She asked me if I needed a hug. I said no. I lied. My body hasn't stopped shaking since I talked to her on the phone. A hug might have held it still, if only for a moment. I couldn't say yes. If I did, I probably would have projectile vomited onto the porch.
I repeated over and over, "It doesn't hurt me." I clenched my eyes tight and thought, "I can do this." I've done it before. It was different before, though. When Rachel and I parted ways, my heart had already jumped ship. On to another ship. A better ship. Warmer. Now, though, I feel like my heart is jumping into every direction, searching for a lifeboat to, at least, get me through the storm.
It's funny how alive awful makes you feel. Much different than the death in contentment.
Drowning.
I put my headphones on and walked out onto the street. I walked most of the way with my eyes closed. Start over. Start over. Start over.
Remind yourself not cry. Not to call.
Please, stop crying.
Don't cry, you piece of shit.
It smells dirty in here. Like shit. The clothes can't find their own way to the basket and my hands have been too busy finding songs to make this more understandable. How am I supposed to understand? All the words keep replaying in my head and I can't even begin to reason.
"You are a piece of shit. You are a piece of shit. You are a piece of shit."
Peace and shhhh...
Only wishes, I suppose.
Maybe it's not the clothes that smell.
I wanted to be held so badly. Before my eyes could cry, she was yelling. How could anyone hold a piece of shit? Without compensation? I guess I've found my reason.
She asked me if I needed a hug. I said no. I lied. My body hasn't stopped shaking since I talked to her on the phone. A hug might have held it still, if only for a moment. I couldn't say yes. If I did, I probably would have projectile vomited onto the porch.
I repeated over and over, "It doesn't hurt me." I clenched my eyes tight and thought, "I can do this." I've done it before. It was different before, though. When Rachel and I parted ways, my heart had already jumped ship. On to another ship. A better ship. Warmer. Now, though, I feel like my heart is jumping into every direction, searching for a lifeboat to, at least, get me through the storm.
It's funny how alive awful makes you feel. Much different than the death in contentment.
Drowning.
I put my headphones on and walked out onto the street. I walked most of the way with my eyes closed. Start over. Start over. Start over.
Remind yourself not cry. Not to call.
Please, stop crying.
Don't cry, you piece of shit.