I came to you when I was broken. I was in pieces and needed to be put back together. I was desperate to be fixed and I didn't care who fixed me. You gathered up my pieces and held them in your hands. I was sure you were going to fix me, but you held the pieces in your hands. For years you held these pieces in your hands and crumbled them into smaller pieces. I was still convinced that you would take my pieces and glue me back together until the day that you dropped them. You dropped all of the pieces and didn't bother to look back or pick them up. You stepped on them and walked away. You stepped on me and left me.
for years i sat through it.
the constant fighting.
i let you tell me how wrong i was.
i let you make me feel like nothing.
i let you use me and abuse me in so many ways.
i liked the attention. i stayed because i liked to feel you with me.
but now i realize who i am.
i realize who you are.
i realize i am a trophy and you are a person who wins too many trophies and throws them up on a shelf.
i will not be on your shelf any longer.
you want to be okay. but everything inside of you is telling you that you aren't. that you can't be. you feel trapped; like who you are is who you'll always be. there's no chance for you. you're stuck in your own head. you talk but only hear your own thoughts being spoken back to you. all of your fears running through your head. stuck inside your head. stuck inside your head. you're stuck inside your head.
"just breathe," they tell you. but no one understands that you can't breathe. your chest has an invisible weight stopping you from taking a breath. you try but it makes it harder. you close your eyes and see all of the thoughts that you hear in your head. you've been like this for so long. "don't worry," they say. but they don't understand that you can do nothing but worry. you can only drown in your own thoughts, unable to swim yourself to safety. your mind is cluttered with "what if's" and, "remember this?" no matter what you do, or how hard you try, you are trapped in this nightmare. the nightmare of your own thoughts. this is is anxiety.
p.m.b. 1:34 am
— The End —