am I uncomfortable with myself or the people around me? if I tell you how I feel then the only thing that comes out are screams -  

does it make it any less believable?

do I turn into the girl who cried wolf when I can't give you proof? i'd gladly show my veins nevertheless commit any sin for credence.
I began to ask the stars if the wounds I’ve given myself outweigh the times I've been abandoned or caused desolation to the things i love let alone touch.
they whispered to me -

"I don't think your resolve could ever be enough in this lifetime."

it started to rain.
I'm not sure if it came from the clouds above or rather my own eyes.

they all let go of my hands, only to be given the chance to surrender so they may save themselves from drowning in my maelstrom. we are humans after all, naturally born with the instinct to survive. they realize that the me they’ve come to know is as empty as my words seem to be, they disappear from view while every road leading to introspection seems to flood - I'm stranded in a convex over places I've submerged; watching in envy as the ones who chose to move forward are so far ahead now, maybe drowning would be better than being shipwrecked observing life go on without me.

the universe seems so arcane now