When society asks how you are... what the hell do you tell them?

That you're exhausted,
worn down and numb.
That you know what death feels like.
It is still, calm, and empty.
It is beyond sadness, a cold, nothingness feeling.
That you've lost yourself.
You're looking at your reflection touching the glass,
trying to work out if that really is you staring back.
That if people can be broken, you have shattered every bone.
Dropped every ***** so it cracked just like glass
That you can force your mouth into a smile,
but your eyes are blind, dull, and empty.
The sadness is all you have right now.
Perhaps it will vanish tomorrow, but perhaps it won't.
You've been here before and will be here again.
This cycle is the life you have become used to.
You're sure you will be fine.

You're just a sad and broken person. That's how you are.
But you can't exactly tell society that can you?
So you go about your day with a smile on your face because you have to fake it until you make it.

Tonight is one of those nights.
You know, the ones where you fall apart.
You close the door and numbly lock it.

You stare at your hands for the longest time before finally breaking.
You gasp for breath, silently sobbing about everything all at once.
About everything that is wrong with you and the world.

Then you deal with it the only way you know how.
You take deep, exhausted, shuddered breaths as you quietly cry yourself to sleep.

The next morning you wake up huddled in the corner of your bed, with a sore body and pounding headache.
So you get out of bed just like any other morning.

7 billion people in this world,
and we end up wanting people who do not want us.

7 billion people in this world,
and we end up valuing people who don't give a **** about us.

7 billion people in this world,
and we end up needing people that do not need us.

7 billion people in this world,
and we end up trusting people that just break us in the end.

I asked her to tell me what she wished for.
"I want to go home," she whispered.
"Isn't this your home?" I asked confused.
She shook her head,
her hand reached out to hold mine gently.

"Home is comfort even when things don't go your way. Home is a place to hide when you're tired of running. Home is a place to be yourself without feeling judged. It's where you feel safe."

"So are you saying you aren't home?"
"Yes, that's exactly what i'm saying," she said, on the verge of tears.

My emotions are so strong they show up on my body.
sad?
i have scars for that.
happy?
the wrinkles in the corner of my eyes.
scared?
my body starts to tremble.
in love?
my eyelashes flutter.
my body expresses my emotions better than my words.
so when i can't say whats going on in my mind, please, i beg you, look at my body.
look at the way i'm nervously twirling my hair, or my hands anxiously shake, or my eyes drift around in the distance in sadness.
my emotions show, you just need to pay attention.

when i get this bad i feel like i'm trapped in a room and i'm running out of  oxygen.
my breathing gets faster and shorter.
the walls close in.
my chest fells like it has 100  pounds on it  forcing my ribs to cave in.
sometimes i feel like this for a second, other times days.
but then there's certain people and they 're like my oxygen .
they help me breathe.
it's hard when they aren't around.
i need them.
they're my oxygen.
i'll die without them

things people taught me:
that the love you have must come at the expense of people around you.
that once you give something, it's yours to take from them.
that being alone is the only safe place.
that being alone is a dangerous thing.
that to feel comfortable with someone you need to assert your dominance.
that you can never feel comfortable.
that marks and bruises mean you care.
that the marks and bruises not only show on my body but in my mind.
that no matter what the situation is my feelings are invalid.
that my bedroom is a safe and private place.
that nothing is really private.
that safety is just an illusion.
that happiness or sadness has more to do with sleep then choice.
that every conflict must be met with loud noises and anger.
that love consists of constant criticism and pain.