The air is getting thick
I can't breathe anymore
The dark clouds follow me
When will this nightmare end
This vicious cycle of pain
Please stop the pain
The stress is eating me alive
I'm fragile and weak
No job is worth this fear
I need money not pain
I'm not me anymore
Confused on what to do
I have everything to lose
All I want is to breathe again
It seems as though my emotions are making their great escape.
Believe me when i say i've tried to turn the page.
But there's nothing of value deep inside this rib cage.
Do people really feel this empty at such a young age?
What's to come if you can never fully immerse yourself in it?
Even when things are imminent, you find yourself wishing your feelings were infinite.
For years my new normal has been stuck in rock bottom.
But now that seems to be less of a problem.
Oh dear god what i would give to just be me again.
To feel like i've been taken apart piece by piece is the last thing i wanted when i set my mind to mend.
So where is the silver lining?
I guess i could just blame it all on bad timing.
I just wish trying to be me again wasn't so **** tiring.
She was so lucky.
Several of them.
All of them kind and real and amazing.
So kind and real and amazing.
Nobody scans her as she walks the halls.
Nobody judges her every choice.
Nobody notices when she chooses to eat information instead of food.
Nobody realizes she notices the little glances just barely within her sight
Or the muffled snickers
Or the sly comments.
Nobody knows how absolutely aware she is.
Nobody hears her trembling breaths in the bathroom
silenced by the palm of her hand.
Nobody could ever know how hard it is to ignore all of it;
how hard it is to not hate yourself;
how hard it is to hide everything
carefully packaged under the confines of her undershirt.
Nobody can tell that inside those bulging rolls is simply a girl with social anxiety and insecurities beyond mental health.
Nobody sees her bury her feelings in her sparse salads and amaranthine assignments.
Nobody sees her.
Let my broken wings take flight
As I dance with the wind
On a stage
While the raindrops clap for me.
I would have
died a million
Before I saw
our love take
its last two
Why am i loving this feeling?
Buzz, the killing type
Don't know but, in a way I know exactly
What's going on
Trying to interface, between I and the photos that you call real life
Gathering actions, it takes me a few minutes to understand.