Your naked body
Pressed on mine
We kissed

I thought that
I should feel
Something

Thrill, euphoria
Lust, love
Or bliss

But no
I felt
Nothing

I'm kind of stuck
At least... I think I am
Somewhere between telling everyone I know to *******
And "just please come hold me friend"

Some place in between an uneasy heart and hectic mind

"I'm depressed"
Can't I just say it without having to explain why?
Sometimes I don't even know which reason to choose

Short replies

"You seem like you don't want to talk"

You're right, but I also want to reach out
I want out
I want to let go of everything
And capture it all in my arms

like a fire fly in the palm of restless hands,
Just let me hold on to your light
Atleast, just for tonight

Because I'm feeling stuck.

God. How am I still not okay?

God. It's been so long.

God. I'm so tired of life right now.

God. What happened to me?

I was such a nice kid.
I was calm all the time.
Mature for my age,
Little but so lively.

I was so helpful.
So loyal.
I always supported my trust.
But I never really spoke my mind.

I was shy.
I was small.
I never stood up for my feelings
I never stood up for myself.

And now I'm older.
I realize I don't need support.
I need myself.
I need confidence.

Speaking your mind is not wrong.
Standing up for your feelings isn't rude.
Standing up for yourself isn't mean.
Saying what you feel doesn't make you imperfect.

No one's perfect. Not even them.
The ones you hate for being so amazing.
Maybe she has anxiety.
Maybe his mom is alcoholic.

No one has a perfect life.
There's not one perfect family in the world.
There is not a person in the world who's perfect.
There's not a person who doesn't have one bit of strife.

But just because you aren't perfect.
Doesn't make you less worth it.
You're amazing.
You're still charming, kind, and strong.

You're just more experienced.
You just understand some more things now.

And maybe, just maybe,
You just aren't as shy anymore.

Crying,
deep, gutteral, gnarled crying,
ugly and cracked,
broken and chaotic,
forced up by my heart [sense of betrayal],
lodges itself in my throat.

Left so unjustly done,
stood up and abandoned,
because it was hung from a rope and left to rot.

For twenty three hours and forty five minutes.

Taunted.

And yet,
it feels

nothing.

My paper heart can feel Nothing at all.