i just wanted you to know, this is me trying.
it always happens like this, and i always write it like this.
it’ll be daysweeksmonthsyears and silently, deeply, these stacked internal groans will have to come out in one way or the other. unhealthy habits, excessive coffee consumption (if there is such a thing), rumination, miring nostalgia, wistful jealousies for everything i don’t have, if-onlys, and the overwhelming need to sob my thoughts out into a torrential downpour of words.
is deep pain what it takes for me to express myself in a real, honest, way?
maybe it’s because i’ve been stuck in the social media trap. faking smiles and happy memories to be just
like
everyone
else.
and honestly, it hurts.
the fear is there that to be this deep is to provide a chance for rejection to those that exist in the less-painful shallows. that no one wants ties that bind them to anyone else–at least not strong ones–unless there is some type of marriage or familial connection. maybe there was a time in history where friendship meant more than it does in the burning timbers of this sinking ship world, or maybe it’s just me.
it’s probably just me.
being in this moment feels like i’m on a life raft with just four other people and one dog. we’re all we have and even though there are other survivors out there, they’ve created isolated flotillas of their own. so we all d r i f t on this turbulent ocean together but desperately alone, everyone aching in synchronous beats and creating the very waves we ride upon.
i wish i was more like my mother. the eternal optomist.
what i truly wish and want is this:
for my sister to come home or for us to go home to her
for my friends to remember my existence without pity or obligation, just love
for my mental illnesses to fade away like morning fog burning off in midday
an end to endings.
i feel like this is me screaming into the void at the top of my lungs, banging on the thickest glass that muffles my cries and blurs my image to passersby. this is me trying and it deserves to be spoken even if it’s only to my own battered, broken brain and shriveled feelings.
hopefully, this becomes a regular thing again. </3
it needs to be said.
