You can’t gloss over it because the hurt spreads too deep. You try so hard to express your truth yet your cries for help are branded as ignorant, everything you say is rebuffed and rejected.

Your loneliness doesn’t meet the standard of everybody else, theirs can be expressed but yours is suppressed. Your sadness falls flat because it ain’t that serious for you to be stressing about or lingering over.

If your mind doesn’t **** you fast enough opening up will, you can’t look for help where your feelings don’t hold weight. Why seek comfort from people who’d rather watch you drown than dry your tears?  

How you cope may not be the solution, yet their passing judgement and distant attitude leaves you out in the cold so rather than smoothly detaching from the distress and seeking to heal the struggle of knowing your emotions are like waste irrelevant, invalidating and an inconvenience. 

Whether they meant the hurt or not we all know when you say what you say in anger or serenity it can’t be taken back, & just like that, a broken record is birthed and then constantly played. Coping is to keep pushing aside life’s woes until you break again, not having the strength to face it head on you just bury your head in the sand.

I am awake wide awake, there is no escaping this mass destruction of endless insomnia. Every time I close my eyes all I see is the tales of loneliness with a hint of fear blindsided by paranoia.

I wish I could claim sanity, I wish I could claim good health. I try to run yet I am stopped in my tracks by a sudden hold of temptation looming me back into an endless cycle of wounds and ****** tales. I can’t seem to get a grip, I am weak.

Trauma is that you? It has to be you haunting me right? My ally, my old friend? The ghost from a past life I always knew. No this is me it always has been I haunt my own tale. I am wide awake or am I? I feel numb, floating but not going anywhere roaming around in my own thoughts trying to find answers yet to be met with nothing.