I drink in the world. Moment by moment I soak it all in through the wounds it has given me. I see the world like a passer by sees someone else’s life. I am always looking in. I see the pain. I see the happiness. I see the anger in every one else. I sit on the sidelines to watch how their life plays out. It could be me avoiding my own stage, but I would rather watch someone else’s success than my own. I would rather listen to their voices than have one of my own. A long time ago, mine was stolen. Stolen by the ones that caught my words as they crossed the threshold of my lips into the frozen air. They held them in their palms as they decided whether to warp them to their benefit or to crush them into nothing more iportant than the dust settling on your picture frame. You have given me a reason not to be a reason. I only gave you the most beautiful words that my mouth could form in hopes that they would heal the wounds on your skin. The wounds that only turned out to be a reflection of my own. You projected my pain onto your body because you knew I could not avoid the attempt to heal. I gave myself, all of myself, away. To the many that could not fill themselves. Now I am left with the draining effects. Their is no more love to distribute nor feelings to play host for an unwelcome heart. I gave you mine to be an additional link on the chains binding yours together. By the time I realized that I was only giving you the armor to shield yourself you had already begun to scavenge through my body’s foundation brick by brick. I gave myself to you and you only kept taking.
Its presence haunts me. Like the wounds it causes. Every move you make is a reminder of its company. I have not looked at it for a very long time. For the last time I did, it almost cost me my life. The weight of it stings my skin with just the thought. I have not looked at it in a very long time but for some reason I cannot let it go. I picture it my head resting in the small container holding it. Confining its power so it cannot weild me. But still, my mind is constricted with the thought. Darkness spilling out of gaping veins that it has yet to open. My body shakes with the expectance of what might happen if my head cannot resist the thought of its cold touch. The same cold touch that freezes everything with in me. The same cold touch that causes me to solidify like a sculpture made of ice, shattered with a simple touch, that melts from its fractures. My eyes cannot shift from the memories it has left on my body. My fingers run over the white lines and I read their stories like brail. There is a feeling of absence when their is no irritated lines to break up the picture. There is a feeling of emptiness when there is numbness in the skin that is a product of my past. There is and urge to reach for the light that reflects off of it. But my skin begins to itch because it knows what is coming. My eyes fill with the clouds I have stolen from the sky to fill my soul and I can no longer see the outline of my own hand. My body fights the war that I have put it through. Though it knows that when the battle begins my mind will win. This is not a beautiful story. This story ends in blood soaked soil drowning me when I cross the battlefeild. This story is not beautiful. Because my body’s screams are like the screaching of tires across the hard asphalt. My sunken in cheeks consume the rest of my face. My feet refuse to carry a cavernous body that has become a home for the mosters within it. I am fighting against my own body and we all know what that leads to. No metaphor can make that hole 6 feet deep any prettier than the insects already decorating its walls.
All I wanted was to be wanted. To feel like I was important to someone. And I still do, but I am comfortable with myself to not need someone’s attention to function. I was wallowing in my self-pity and I thought the only way to not be lonely was for people to pay attention to me, and trust me, I have manipulated myself to be able to get exactly that, but I am finally pulling myself out of that dark hole of despair. The best part is that as soon as I can finally do that for myself, someone decides to prohibit my progression. I wanted you to need me and you didn’t, but as soon as I can move on, you say you need me. If your goal wasn’t to drag me right back into that wretched confinement you are doing a horrendous job of showing it. It feels like every time I am ready to walk away you pull me back and I am forced to start from the beginning all over again. I am exhausted with your endless games and I would just like to take a rest. Stop using me then throwing me away. I know after this you are going to push me back to the side like you always have and I am going to wait there patiently until I am just ready to fix myself. Which will be conveniently right before you “need” me again. I am so over being used. Like I said before, I will not stress my life to be a crutch for yours.
I have been reading a lot lately. It is always a bad idea. You see, when I read books I get it this terrible mood that leads to me sinking back into that endless abyss. Books are supposed to be an escape right? Well, that is what it is for me, but only for a little while. I become so invested in the story. I feel everything the character is feeling as if I am them as if I am experiencing everything they are. I become so invested that I cannot think of anything else. My mind can only focus on the story and the emotions of this book. While I am reading the book, it isn’t such a bad thing, but when the book ends so do I. I am left empty because the book drained me of all feeling. I don’t think it would be so bad but I have realized that I feel. I feel so hard and with everything I have. I hurt myself because I feel everything so damn much. I am drained of everything I am and it is kept in little places of my life that I can never reach. I think that is the biggest thing people do not understand about me so they don’t know how to treat me. That is why am always the one that ends up hurt in the end.
Life is strange when you have moved on. When you don’t get that feeling when you text someone. When you don’t constantly have one person on your mind. My mind is always running and my heart keeps fluttering but simply for the reason that it just wants to. My body is not reacting to my feelings toward a person any longer. Though it may sound nice, it kind of sucks. You don’t have those little conversations to look forward to. You don’t get those random smiles when you open your phone. Your heart no longer skips a beat when your phone vibrates. Though I have never been happier, I feel slightly empty. I feel as though a part of me is missing. My heart is aching for someone to love. My heart can never be satisfied.
It’s like we never stopped talking. I never realized how much I missed you until I had you back. I have felt so broken for so long but for this moment, this moment talking to you, I feel whole. My life is a constant blur of unsure happenings that I cannot seem to get ahold of. But when I am talking to you the world slows down for a second and I can breathe. I am happy with you. I thought I might be in love with you, but I do not really know what the feeling is. All I know is your were my best friend and my life is better with you in it. I will not lose you again. I will hold tighter to you than I have held on to anyone because I know what it is like to not have you and it hurts like hell. I don’t want to go through that ever again.
I feel sick. The last time I felt like this it ended worse than I could ever have imagined. Last time I felt this sick I was left with a scar on my wrist that looks like a line terminating my existence. But, yet again, here I am. Nine years. Nine years between us and somehow we have managed to make this out of our lives. Two days and you make me think about every waking moment of my existence and question every choice I have ever made. Is this my fault? My stomach feels like it is consuming itself and someone’s hand is reaching down my throat to stop it. I am alone in this and I do not know how I got here. You are kind. You are sweet. But even the day I become legal I am the same person that I am just the day before. One day does not change me. So why is it then and only then that we can be? I do not think this can work but for some reason, I cannot say no. This is my fault. I got myself into the situation. You do not make me sick. I make me sick. I am repulsed by the thought that I can be so ignorant and so willing. Though you are okay with this I am not. But I will not tell you that because I am weak. I will continue and wait until I become so sick of the thoughts going through my head and you decide that whatever this is cannot work. It is always me. I will always get myself into this. I am my own problem. I am my own worst fear. I am sorry just as sorry as I will be when we end this. I am sick and I do not know if I can live with it.
They asked me how I felt.
I said fine.
Little did they know
there were demons inside my mind.
I want to break my ribs and rip my heart from my chest and bury it so deep that it will not be able to feel the people walking over it. I want to plunge a knife into my chest and rip it down to release all the demons trapped within me. I want to open my veins and drain them of the darkness running through my blood. I want to take a gun to my head and feed the demons the only thing they are begging for. My mind is not a safe place and if I shared that with you, you would never look at me the same. I know what to say and exactly when to say it in order to please people. I have plastered a smile on my face so that no one would guess otherwise. They will never see a side of me that I do not want them to see. I am alone. For now, I am good with that.
I am trying to be Happy. I am trying so hard, but there is some caged animal that tries to climb up my throat every time I smile. Happiness is not a realistic goal. Well, it seemed like it was until I found that it seemed like no one around me wanted to be happy. When you show the slightest sign of light they rip it away hoarding it like it was never yours to begin with. How can you be happy when all of it is being sucked out of you. It should not be so exhausting to be happy. Change your attitude, smile more, act like it is all okay. If you are not happy, act like you are. Only then will it come. Even then, I am struggling to hold my head above water. My limbs are getting tired and I am losing strength. I try so damn hard to be happy. It is hard enough for myself why do I have to make everyone else happy too? I am exhausted. Maybe I will settle with the sun from the sea floor.
I wish I could take in the little moments of release again…like I used to. My entire body is tense. I shake like I overdosed on caffeine. Still, I cannot relax. I soon as I get the chance I feel guilty. Should I feel Guilty? Something keeps eating away at my soul and I am losing myself. Forgetting who I used to be. Forgetting the happy I used to feel. What is happening to me? I am eternally exhausted and I am afraid you can see it from the outside. I am afraid I might treat them different because I am different. I don’t want to hurt them. They deserve so much more. They all do. Am I worth this pain. Is life worth this pain. I cannot breathe anymore. Someone has reached into my chest and is pulling at everything there. Why? Why can I not stop them? Why am I still here? I am not afraid of them…I am afraid of me.