i feel it in my chest with every breath feeling heavier than the last, like someone is playing jenga with concrete stones on my body
my eyes burn the same type of pain that comes from gripping a hot pan or pouring acid on your face
i sit atop my bed, restlessly scratching my arms or my heels dissecting the layers of my skin trying to feel something or for a sign that I’m still alive
then the thoughts come creeping in about how my body is disgusting and i should never eat again and how i’m just not smart enough and no matter how much stress I put into my work it will never be enough
even my meds know that I’m not enough because even the proper dose can’t help me
Wasting time, hours spent doing nothing. She once thought she could hold the world in her hands, stand on mountains and face the gods. Now she's stuck. Lost, trapped and out of time.
She worries about time, watching clocks tick by; her hours are spent trembling, anxious of the rising sun. The moon holds her gaze, gleaming down from her kitchen window. "Why did you leave me?" she calls out, eyes sorrowful.
The moon just stares, fixated on the girl in the window. Time keeps ticking by, the moon turning into the sun. As the rising dawn arrives, setting fire to the cold sky, she holds her head high and whispers,
"The sun will always rise." The sun smiles back, radiating warmth that keeps her from turning to stone. Smashing the clock, shattering glass on stone floors. The girl breaths a sigh, the clock's ticking stopping.
I've hit a wall lately A wall so tall it seems impassable. I wake up daily to it encompassing my bed. Making waking up a test of endurance. Once I'm passed that, there's just another wall. Around social interactions, work, moving, and to be honest. It's all just ******* walls. Walls I thought I broke down, that are now 10x as big. Did I mention my fear of heights? I take pills that are supposed to help, and they do, but these halflives are nothing compared to these walls. They're made not of cement but of sentiment and wicked dreams. Thoughts of all the horrible options that could be. Thoughts of a depressed self and a depressed spouse. "You think the kid can tell?" That I'm loosing my grip? That I'm terrified of the monsters under the bed? I'm immobilized by my own mind like a car tire boot on my will to try. Wish someone would tow me off to oblivion. Or at least a place I could relax. I'd modestly ask for just a few moments escape. From all these walls