I try to remember the good times, but they are written out in brail and I've never been taught how to read anything but the outline of your shadow. You were never there. Even at times when you would convince yourself you were, you were just a shadow. Painting your way into my life one postcard at a time, one sealed letter and three words at a time. I was never really meant to be anything but lost inside these wounds the world has left upon my skin and inside my memory. I am a tree trunk, and you can see the hell I've faced just by looking at me and if you were to chop me down and open me up you would see the hollowed out pieces and the places where I couldn't seem to stand any longer. I am infested with bugs that are eating away at my insides and they're all named memory, anxiety, depression, and insecurity and somehow no one ever called to help me. No one cared if I lived or died they were just waiting for me to rot from the inside out so they could make room for something they thought was better. But what people never realized was that I was what kept you breathing, I was what made your scenery so ******* beautiful and you watch as I break down and rot away from the inside out. I wish people could see the destruction underneath. As my leaves fall away and the cold days speed up my process I hope you will remember, all my beauty and my glory. Insecurity is getting stronger as I become weaker, depression is like the cold crisp and it's weighing upon me like a chill I can't quite escape from, no matter how many layers I seem to have. Anxiety is like the lack of water and all you can seem to do is show people that you're thirsty but everyone around you is too busy taking ******* pictures of your pain while drinking away their sorrows in 40s and ***** bottles when all you really need some ******* water.. So memory comes along and reminds you why you needed it in the first place, reminds you how ******* thirsty you are, reminds you everyday that you're rotting away on the inside and there's nothing you can do to stop it..
I'm thirsty, longing to fill that empty hole inside my chest that just keeps getting bigger as the days get longer and all I want is for someone to lend me a hand but as they reach out to grasp mine, I break.
I want to stop the process but I don't know how-
I'm afraid of my own shadow again, because it reminds me of what I've lost.