why must I feel so deeply
I wish I felt nothing at all
feeling nothing would feel better
than drowning in a pool made solely of my tears
I’d rather drown than float and struggle
I’d rather sink than try to swim
I’d rather have a sea of sorrow fill my lungs than have light around me be so dim
I wish I felt nothing

I’m being handed erasers
when all I’ve ever known is the smell of ink
I’m feeling so clueless
I don’t know what I think
I’m like a bird born in a cage
who does not know what wings are for
while others fly, I sit and cry
because I don’t know why…

i am a lightbulb
hanging from the ceiling
attached to a string
you pull when you need the light
and as you find comfort in darkness
you stop pulling the string
i then start to realize you can see in the dark
and never needed my gleam
you used my flare
until it started to fade
along with all i had left to give
at least you don’t pull my string anymore
and as you find a match to light
i am a now just a lifeless lightbulb
hanging from the ceiling

I am certain that you don’t
And quite possibly never did
But if I ask you if you ever loved me
Even just for a day
Please tell me a comforting lie

Without knowing what else to do
What else to write
I sit and glare at a book only half finished
I look for help
Nothing seems to help my writer’s block
Getting rid of a character might do the trick

The protagonist?
Maybe?
Or maybe not
I don’t know

I’m just tired of writing this autobiography