i'm not certain why i thought i might hear from you on my birthday,
you always had a hard time remembering it anyway
i miss you gently
i prayed for this
now i don't want it
the highs fly by and my eyes can't catch any moments
i ride on attention and affection
i spend time between the sheets with people i'm dying to meet
and wake in the morning begging for solitarity
i pathologize my feelings
i want to be alone but my thoughts are my loudest company
my brain is stuck in cyclical relentlessness
i speak to myself and somebody else answers
i keep my room tidy, so they'll think of me kindly
when they come for my things.
i am held, and i don't feel it
I am okay
it's just extremely ambiguous
A word that holds just as many different meanings as there are languages in the world
i've heard almost every tongue i've encountered use it
it means the same thing to us all
it means everything all at once
Am I okay?
I still claw through dense sadness
I still dwell on impenetrable pain
I still mask wells of fiery anxiety -- ripping the pit of my stomach
I question the validity of my own feelings
I struggle desperately to heal
I'm trying, truly
I'll keep trying.
Because I am okay, I really am.
I'm just within several definitions of that dangerously ambiguous word.
everything is relative, but nothing is fixed.
days pass, and that never changes
until it does
then it's what you always wanted, right?
But by then you won't want it anymore
spend your life waiting passively for a reason
to slip away
in a way nobody can blame you for
so your memory brings warmth and love
rather than selfish cruelty
but when the day of your craving finally comes,
it'll be from a life you no longer want to leave
and that's just the way it has to be
beg for it , until it's there
they ask me what my pain feels like,
i say not everything feels like something else
ow ow ow ow ow
I've been silent on paper
I've been loud in my head
the voices that chatter against my skull
Reverberations of all my shortcomings, failures,
My narratives of unworthiness
I am my own detriment
my own destruction
I cling to pain and welcome heartache like an old friend
I was born with a broken heart
fragile and shattered
carefully pieces together
bursting at the seams
crushed by the hands i chose to hold it.
i break my heart to make it bigger, why not crack my skull when my mind swells