An all consuming feeling like that of
being buried alive, when every bone
feels as if it will snap in half the
next time you breathe. Your
brain feels like it is going to break
out of your skull and bounce down
the hall to the room you cried yourself
to sleep in every night since you were
twelve. Every thought runs into another
and there's a seven car pileup inside
your head. Your nail polish is chipped
an hour after you paint them because
you've found something that is easy to
peel away; you pretend it is your skin
with every rip, tear, and scuff. The only
thing that seems to be going right in life
is that your bed still feels like home even
after you wake up from the same nightmare
four nights in a row. You keep your door
closed to keep the darkness out but it only
serves to trap the demons in. Your fingers tap
at a dimly lit keyboard hoping that a string
of letters and syllables can release you
from the grief. You inhale someone else's
problems and exhale their smile, but the
curve on your lips always seems to be
facing downwards. Stop trying to fix every
single thing around you, and start with
yourself.