everything is so messy,
i feel this aching pain when i'm at home, and when i'm out with friends i feel lonely.
my mind feels like my bedroom, a right off.
sure, you can tell me to clean it and i can try,
i can want to clean it but no matter how many times i shove that ***** laundry back into a pile; and no matter how many times i throw everything out,
it all comes back out sooner than later. i crave a tidy life, i tidy mind and a tidy room, but it's so hard to keep up with.
i would rather let sleep cradle me in it's gentle arms for the rest of the day, and do it tomorrow.
though, tomorrow never comes and thus my room and my mind stay the same.
a vicious, but comforting cycle.
i like it when things stay the same, i like it more than i should.
all i've had my whole life is change,
now i find comfort in static, i find comfort in knowing what's going to happen tomorrow.
i find comfort having routine even though the cycle i'm in is destructive and makes me hate myself, it's hurtfully comforting.
that doesn't make any sense but here's something that might,
feeling something is better than feeling nothing
negative or positive
maybe that's why i stick around you.
you don't help me clean, if anything you make even more of a mess, but that keeps the routine going.
i'll clean tomorrow. then turns into tomorrow. then tomorrow. then tomorrow. then...

there’s a loop
a loop of anger, despair, and nothing. numbness.
feeling numb is probably the best part, though feeling nothing gets lonely.
aching to feel something, anything.
the anything usually then turns into despair, and feeling so desperate makes me sick.
i’m tired of this endless cycle of agony, the static of feeling nothing, the ache of despair, the fire of rage.
i don’t know how to break out of it — how to break out of this hell.
i feel as if I’m drowning and the only thing i can do is hope i’ll float, no matter how fast i keep sinking to the bottom. staring up at the water blurred sky, stars blinking out and the moon becoming invisible as i begin to lose the breath i had been holding in.
the burning in my lungs soothe as water fills them, though the panic setting in makes my limbs thrash as i desperately heave for oxygen, getting nothing more than the cold liquid.
then it goes dark.
that part, is what i’m waiting for now. after the final panic.
the release.
i just want to be free.
why can’t i be free?