see, it’s just—
i was gonna be great, y'know?
i was gonna be godchild,
i was gonna be stardust,
i was gonna find the top of the world,
make my home there—
all these things people thought i could do.
told me i was capable of.
and instead—
i don’t know, but here i am.
a patchwork of apologies, a clump of soil.
something full of not enough.
here i am. trembling joints and hitching breaths,
hunching shoulders and uncertainty.
i don’t know.
here it is. i am sorry.
the cusp of another breakdown.

And suddenly
I was on the verge of
Breaking down for
No reason
At all.

i turn the sound of the shattering into a punchline
and the laughter almost burns the room down.
and it feels almost like a promise.
(of what, i do not want to know.
i do not want to say.)

and the truth of it is
sometimes it truly is just a joke, a skin-deep wound, no one's loss;
other times
(most times)
the hurt scrapes against my bones,
and the promise echoes just as the laughter ends,
(sputters into a silence more deafening than the uproar)
as they leave the room,
as i am left alone.

i ride through the breakdown and become too lost to rebuild,

much less to rebuild alone.

Just hearing the prospect of my brother's proposal
plunged me into an ocean
where I am not allowed to surface. I can only
struggle and hope some fisherman,
or a dolphin, or jellyfish
to rescue me,
   n u d g e me,
ssstttingg me back to the currents above.
I have this anchor locked to my tears, and I can't make

a sound. If they notice, I will begin to cry.
I don't want them to know
that I'm bad again. They are not the right
people who should know.
I just want someone to care about me
as much as I care about them.
I deserve love, like everyone deserves air.

It's so stupid to feel lonely in a room
full of laughing people, enjoying their company with family.
I myself am with family, but I feel so
secluded, put aside, a thought floating
after a quick glance at the girl who's been quiet
for far too long, who usually
sparks the conversation before others.
Tonight, it is too loud.
Dancing waiters and a conga line,
trays of cheap champagne passed around,
Andrew discussing a promising proposal,
kept me so removed from table 351
and the restaurant itself. I cannot control
anything.
The conversation carries on without me.

Jealousy changes you—it completely shifts your mind and paradigm and way of thinking and way of seeing things.

Jealousy  makes your brain cloudy with anger, unable to think clear.

Jealousy makes you succumb to the gruesome power of fear.

Jealousy raises up your ego in a heartbeat, making you defending yours like your whole life clings to it.

Jealousy takes your will to love—if it's still there at all. Because who knows loving someone could be this exhausting?

Jealousy makes you a repugnant, revolting human being.

...and jealousy has successfully done every single thing above, to me.

on the worse days,
i do not let it show.
i watch the ones whom i love most
out of the corner of my eye.
their faces are bright.
i watch them - hope and love and surety - and think,
i am sorry.
i am sorry.
and i do not let it show.

everything is loud around me
and i am an apology left unheard, unspoken;
i myself am left deafened,
too lost to speak.

my love, my love,
i look at you and think:
i am sorry.
do you know? do you know?

do you know:
i am a plane crash,
i am leaping off this cliff that is my breakdown,
i am drowned in my own waters.
do you know, do you know?
my ribcage has been paper-thin for so long,
and my own heart is knocking it down
(it pounds so loud);
and so i am trembling fingers and empty feet,
burning palms and everyday fatigue.
i am the moment
the calm leaves the storm
and everything comes crashing;
i am a star about to die,
and not once did i ever seem to shine;
i am an explosion,
and do you know:
i am so terrified
you will be caught in my aftermath.

in the end,
none of the metaphors will ever fit:
i am sad.
it has been this way for some time.
do you know?
if i think too much my eyes might tear up,
and this is why i can never seem to meet your gaze.

no; of course not:
my apologies are always unspoken.
i am sorry;
perhaps one day the bravery will return
(if it was ever there)
and neither of us will be so lost.

my love, my love,
i am sorry. give me time.

my love,
worry not about me.
not yet, not now.
your quiet love - it is bright,
and i think: no,
you do not have to know.
for this moment, i will be all right.
i will not let it show.
(i will try to stop apologizing for faults that aren't mine.)
my love,
stay with me in this moment.
i ask for little more.

fear is such an ugly thing;

it gives you a sense of insecurity,
knowing just how many things that can go wrong.

it gives you a sense of uncertainty,
unknowing just what are the odd
of the things that can go wrong—
or would they ever happen at all.

it numbs you,
making you lose the ability to feel.

because why would you even choose
to feel only to get hurt,
if you could shut yourself down
from the whole world
before you got hurt?

it alters your mind,
turning you from a logical human being
to a big incoherent, irrational pile of mess.

and the most frightening thing of all,
is that fear scares you so much
that you can't do anything
but giving in to it.