It is that time of the year again.
The time of the year when I am quietly growing numb, my heart is racing, and I feel like I’m losing it all again.
That time of the year when I find myself doubting my existence a little too frequently.
That time of the year when I’m excited, yet too afraid to confront it.
My head hurts. As the hours pass by, my heart starts racing. I don’t want it to end, yet I’m too afraid for it to even begin.
When you are drenched in guilt for everything and for nothing at all, most of the time.
When you are too desperate to feel loved, quietly manifesting, yet constantly falling apart.
When you want to fix, explain, and understand so badly, but find it quite useless to do so.
When you miss everything that made you you.
When you miss everything that’s yours, but not really—something that maybe once was yours and will never be again.
When you have so many questions for yourself, but don’t know the answers.
I want to live, but the ghosts won’t let me.
Time isn’t fixing anything. It’s only tying me tighter to the grief.
I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to do everything that doesn’t make me feel this way.
I want to tell the world about my heart , about how badly it hurts. I want to tell them about the ache in my soul.
I want to tell everyone who has ever hurt me to set me free from the grief that is still punishing me.
I don’t want to miss or grieve the child in me on my birthday nights.
I don’t want my name to be a character I play in my own life.
I hate darkness. It haunts me.
I hate silence because it echoes pain.
I want to talk, endlessly. I don’t want to sit alone. I hate loneliness.
I want to love myself.
I want to love myself so badly.
I want to take birth again without this persistent ache, free from all these ghosts.
I want to live.
Live without all this fear.
Live with all the love in the galaxies.
I’m dying
@nanoisstillwondering
