Im debating on how heavy a soul could get before your self esteem sinks. I've been finding the bottom of bottles more comforting than being in a room full of friends.
I find being alone is much More suffocating and deadly than lying in a coffin.
I find myself staring at stars wondering how things so romanticized spend and eternity alone.
I find mirrors terrifying
I think hand shakes are vice grips in a trap
Hugs are land mines covered with welcome mats
And smiles are razor blades.
And yet nothing can replace the emptiness I harbor in me like a tumor resting carelessly on my heart.