I can’t do this anymore
I can’t keep stitching myself together every morning
just to spend the entire day unraveling again
Something inside me is wearing thin
like cloth dragged over nails
like skin pulled too tight over broken machine
Every thought feels infected
every breath comes back wrong
I walk around carrying this body
like it’s a dying animal strapped to my spine
heavy and twitching and impossible to save
Sometimes I swear my ribs are caving in
curling around my lungs like fists
trying to crush every breath before it reaches me
I smile and my face feels delayed
like muscles tugged by invisible strings
like something underneath me is learning how to pretend
I’m exhausted in ways sleep can’t touch
The kind of exhaustion that settles in the marrow
thick and cold
until even standing up feels like dragging a corpse through wet concrete
And nobody can see it
Nobody sees the rot
the cracking
the awful feeling that my insides are collapsing into themselves
while I keep answering texts
and saying “I’m fine”
with a mouth that barely feels human anymore
I don’t know when I started disappearing
Maybe it was gradual
maybe pieces of me have been falling off for years
rotting quietly behind me while I kept moving
All I know is that I’m running out of things to give
running out of ways to survive myself
And some nights I lie awake feeling this enormous emptiness inside me
like my body has been hollowed out
and something vast and cold has made a home there
I keep trying to fight it
I really do
But I’m so tired of carrying pain
that feels alive
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 6:59 AM UTC
I can’t do this anymore
I can’t keep stitching myself together every morning
just to spend the entire day unraveling again
Something inside me is wearing thin
like cloth dragged over nails
like skin pulled too tight over broken machine
Every thought feels infected
every breath comes back wrong
I walk around carrying this body
like it’s a dying animal strapped to my spine
heavy and twitching and impossible to save
Sometimes I swear my ribs are caving in
curling around my lungs like fists
trying to crush every breath before it reaches me
I smile and my face feels delayed
like muscles tugged by invisible strings
like something underneath me is learning how to pretend
I’m exhausted in ways sleep can’t touch
The kind of exhaustion that settles in the marrow
thick and cold
until even standing up feels like dragging a corpse through wet concrete
And nobody can see it
Nobody sees the rot
the cracking
the awful feeling that my insides are collapsing into themselves
while I keep answering texts
and saying “I’m fine”
with a mouth that barely feels human anymore
I don’t know when I started disappearing
Maybe it was gradual
maybe pieces of me have been falling off for years
rotting quietly behind me while I kept moving
All I know is that I’m running out of things to give
running out of ways to survive myself
And some nights I lie awake feeling this enormous emptiness inside me
like my body has been hollowed out
and something vast and cold has made a home there
I keep trying to fight it
I really do
But I’m so tired of carrying pain
that feels alive