It just hurts.
To breathe
To move
To talk
To exist
To live.
There’s no motivation to move on.
To let go.
To live.
I’ve lost my way and
Ultimately, I’ve lost myself.
I don’t know who I am.
I feel as if I’m no longer worthy of living.
No longer worth waiting.
No longer worth anything.
I hate all who I am.
And I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for not being able.
Not being good enough.
Not being enough.
Or even good.
I tell everyone that
I’m good.
But I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t do this.
I’m losing it.
I’m losing my mind.
I’m losing myself.
I’m losing everything.
And honestly,
I’m just exhausted.
I’m just tired of failing.
And falling.
And faking everything.
I just want one person to just sit down.
And ask me how I truly am.
To look into my eyes, and be honest.
I just want to go out in the open, and…
SCREAM.
It’s like I’m being burdened with more and more weight everyday.
Every single day is like another layer of pain.
Another layer of hate and anger.
Sadness and grief.
Regret and rejection.
I can’t.
I can’t do this.
It hurts to see people happy.
To see people laughing.
It hurts to see people gathered together.
Unaware.
Of the subtle things.
Of the truth behind masks.
Of the brokenness of this world.
Of the brokenness of the people around them.
And it hurts.
It’s like being left on the side of the road
With a knife down your throat.
Because they all just want to be reassured.
Whether or not there’s a cure,
They don’t care.
Who cares, right?