I can't cry anymore.
I've lost every counted hour of sleep.
No words can form any sensical sentences.
I'd go weeks without talking if you'd let me.

I don't know where I've gone but I know its not here.

Some days I wake up brave enough to tell the world every secret hidden in my being.

But other days I wake up to mend myself to the walls and blend in to every corner of the room.

I can't breathe enough to stay alive much less muster up the words to carry a conversation.

I've become the pale shade of gray that meets the wooden floors and white ceilings.

Let me stay here. Hidden among the walls.

One day you will know.
One day you might understand.

Any averageness you ache for, you will not find here.
No organization, nor solidity.
I am a whirlwin of inconsistency.

My thoughts are never ending.
My body is never resting.

These feet will never settle on solid ground.
This soil will always forbid it.
Like sinking sand, it embodies me if I give in to its suddle ease.

I'll run my race.
This never ending pursuit of wholeness.

You can't keep up.
Your desire is what keeps this earth above your eyes, where every other living soul chooses to reside.

Shuttering in the in between.
Trying to search for some sort of normalcy.

Some place I'll never know.
Some place I've never been.

No sort of consistency has ever maintained me.

No established foundations.
No branching deep roots.

No part of me has any sort of regularity or normality.

It is how it has been, it is how it will always remain.

Stop trying to understand my mind as if its a math problem with a complicated, definant answer.

Its hard enough trying to make sense of it myself, I can't explain it anymore.

A never
ending tread.
Keeping my
head above
every roaring
wave.

I can only hold my breathe for so long.

I cant choke on this air for much longer.

What is this emptyness?
What is this hollow shell.

So easily swayed to another's happiness.

When will I be whole.

When will i feel my very own emotions?
When will I finally fall in love with being present in this body so graciously given to me?

But here I stay.
In this room, on a hospital bed, and to think, its my 22nd birthday.