how are you doing?

perhaps i am holding secrets
and the holder is keeping me captive
like my mind has been caged up
imagination flew someplace far off

and everyones in love now
while i pretend to care about things
when I'd rather just drown

i dont ******* get that i dont get it
that this thing im searching for might just be impossible to find, might just be broken.

wish i could say i didnt care
wish i was strong enough for my lies to even sound half believable
wish waking up in the morning didn't seem so insufferable

i wish i knew i was loved.
or at least what that even feels of.
i wish i could stop acting so ******* tough.
i wish i had the power to say i even really knew anyone.
i wish my mother speaking in tongues stopped making me feel so uncomfortable.

how am i doing?
i feel numb
i feel empty and full and useless and like im being used.
sometimes i feel like even my dog hates me.
so how am i doing?
i don't really have a clue

maybe i should go back to plan A.
i wish i remembered how to pray.

try not to become so distracted
or maybe
become a bit more

get lost in something, whatever it may be. it is healthy to be challenged intellectually every once in a while. push your limits. find something you've never thought twice about and pull all of the emptiness and boredom and anxiety and twist it into something beautiful. dissect it, examine it, create from it. always give yourself permission to feel. we know this already, that logic and thought sometimes refuse to mix, so separate the two and create something impossible. challenge yourself. everything in this life can find ways to shove you down, but how will you overcome by laying stagnant?

holding your ground is not bad, but remember the things that bring you joy. loosen up. hold onto other things. look ahead a bit more often. immerse yourself in life.

my mind doesn't work right when it has to
and i come home to sulk
never anymore, to do
and yes.
i am angry

i am too sad to cry
too angry to yell
not ready yet, to speak.

i wish my hands could speak for me
but they're bound
and with every struggle,
it is tightened

im starting not to see anything beyond this
i blink and im here again
pinch myself and im still here
you always wake up from sleep

and alright, I don't have the guts to **** myself
my mother has drilled hell in my brain like a nail
but hell isnt a place
its a feeling
a presence
or a lack there of.

and so yes
i am angry.
ive played so many songs on wordless strings
strung chords to sound like sobbing
and for what?
i am still angry
and tomorrow i will be angry
i will blink, and still
ill remain angry
and when you wake up from your slumber,
you will stretch out the feeling in your bones
relish in the last seconds of moonlight
you will look outside,
see the sun,
see the people,
see yourself,
and you will still be angry.
you will be played unfairly and be angry.
you will always remain the way you are.

it a scary thing to face alone,
anger, or bitterness.
but perhaps the scariest of them all,
is the length we will go to escape it.

be angry
be bitter
but always play fair.

i taught myself to be who i am
perhaps my life isnt always all that it seems
weeks i cant remember, but it's easier to recall my dreams
the literal, not future

because what future can be seen
when there is so much in the way?
my thoughts are like a strainer
holding the negative
and watching all the positive drip through
maybe ill feel better when the ticking stops
when the little hand meets the 3 on the clock
maybe when my weight starts to dust itself off
or when i fall in love
when I finally feel satisfied enough to just sleep it off

its getting harder to stay awake
to make my running thoughts run away
its getting more difficult to feel much of anything lately

do you see behind their words?
youve been wrapped around their finger so much that youve rung out
a shell of a man is what you have become

do they love you or the promises you make?
do they know how much for her youve thrown away?

nah, they never bend until theyve broken anyway
and youll turn around and everyone will be gone
whipped is what they call it
but how long will you wander?
you should quit your head for a real friend

wait til i take it
what will it take for you to stop?
will i have to stop telling myself over and over that its not fake its not fake its too real to be fake
"theres nothing he cant take"

im so sorry my problems arent real enough for you
somethings my mother wont know
though
its hurts to know it hurts her
forgetting has always been my sort of forgiveness

a friend of mine once told me that the opposite of love, is to be
self centered
but the opposite of love is not selfishness
but selflessness

i am too self reliant to fall in love
not dependent enough
too busy not trusting myself
to believe someone else could dare to not let me go

i hope it feels good
hope her hands burn like the words burning me to conceal yours

theres always been a slither of hope
in my point of view
maybe that hope is only small for a few.

these little talks of ours are getting repetitive
i repented on the floor of my brothers bedroom
i repented on a busride on my own at 1am
in the ibuprofen pills locked away somewhere

these talks are seeming less like talks
and more like tradition
there is no hope in me left to question
if im being honest here
(and ive always been)
the line between help and harm
is very blurry right about now

maybe ive accepted what has come to be
that only of us is coming out alive
and it wont be me

ive only one question left
and its important
what the hell did you get out of this?
cause ive lost everything