Whispers Of A Black Cat

A quiet corner for the shadows that lurk around every corner. Where the ignored and the unseen finally speak.

[visilepoem15192x]

[whispersofablackcat]

It’s never going to be enough.

[whispersofablackcat]

I hate the need want to be seen and noticed. I hate that it’s attention seeking and offensive to so many and yet, it’s exactly what I crave most of the time. I know people say they notice me, that they see me, that they want to help, I can’t help but know better and shy away. It feels fake, or at least it seems like it’s fake. Like someone is suddenly putting on a facade, waiting for someone to call "cut" so they can finally look away from me again. As if only to remind me I’m not worth a moment of their attention when the curtain falls.

But I want to be noticed without the need to say “I need help”. I want someone to notice when I take a step back, to see when my voice disappears from any and all conversations, to recognize when I start repeating the same stories over and over as if I’m hoping praying someone will finally pay attention enough to even mention it to me.

I want to be the friend you text first. Not the person who always has to reach out and say “Hi” while knowing I’m most likely bothering you, that you’d rather I left you alone because if you needed me you would’ve asked

[youaremyiris]

sometimes i wonder if i'll ever enjoy being alive

[fawnloser]

i’m sick of being alive

[echoesofsaturn]

as my final act of love, I will swallow every "please stay" and turn it into silence so you don't feel trapped by my ache

[whispersofablackcat]

Sometimes, I feel like no matter what I do, it won’t be enough. Like I’m standing in a sinking boat, frantically tossing out buckets of water, only to realize it’s a losing battle. No matter how much I scream or beg for help, the boats around me just watch, unmoved and unwilling to lend a hand to someone so far gone. Maybe I haven’t sunk yet, maybe I never will. And maybe, just maybe, it’s nothing. But it feels like everything.

Most of the time, I know it would be easier to just stop. To drop the bucket and let the water rise. To let them see my body sink, watch as it fills with water and steals the air from my lungs. When I will finally know, peace. It won’t be a tragedy. Just a statistic. A number. Not a person. Just a bit of unnecessary logic given to prove that boats truly can sink.