I’m clawing at my chest, Because I want to make this itching ache stop But I am unable to reach into my chest and grasp my stomach and clench my heart; I am unable to tell it to stop its fluttering Just as I am barely able to hold back the sob that wants to rip through my throat in an agonizing scream. BUT I CAN'T. Because I can’t do anything. I have no control.
And normally I would be okay with that, But in these moments losing control is the worst thing Because it is the one thing I so desperately need. Just when things are going well I collapse into myself again like an exploding star.
The cycle is repeating. This is the hardest part. It’s the most painful. It is crying all the time It is anxious It‘s having fidgety hands It's headaches from furrowed brows It's seeing the inadequacy of yourself and not being okay with it. It's like having a microscope on yourself Its being exhausted all the time because you can’t stop the overthinking, the analyzing, or the constant pity parties and comparisons
I’m sick of being so emotionally fragile. I just want to move on to the next stage already To the numbness that follows So I can stop caring Stop crying Stop hurting so **** much
I just want it all to go away. I want the pain and hurt to go away. This ache isn’t numb, it's not sharp, but rather it is suffocating. It is hands around my throat squeezing just tight enough so that I feel like I'm dying, but aware that I can still breathe.
My city... I was here before it was even one, my toys are older than the high-rise buildings. Yet all of my oldest dreams have long been gone, this is where new people from far-away are dreaming.
People dream to visit here even for a day, I can't count the years I've been trying to escape. People travel here to have a sip of coffee, even the taste of water here can tell that I am sick.
In the inner city, while everyone takes photographs, I try my best to walk with my shoulders not dropped. In the chic cafes where others strike a pose, I knew I never wanted more, I had my dose.
My city, that many people dream of visiting and living in, why, then there's me who's here and feeling livid in. My now-larger-city that still feels like a small town, I feel suffocated, as if all my life I'm in a tight gown.
yes, my brain is on fire it burns at a million degrees all those mistakes that I’m made of are slowly breaking free like pompeji i‘m buried underneath the ashes suffocate me, still, even if no one else can see
Stumble after stumble after stumble I have stumbled through the roots of this forest there's no light passing through branches just the sound of life right outside it And I try to reach outstretch my hands but my fingers get scalded as I point them in the wrong direction But all paths look the same in the forest as frantic I try to find my way out
When they said "it's time to experiment", I should have assumed that meant "trial and error"
Open spaces Make me Claustrophobic The void You opened up is Smothering me There is too much Nothingness And it is Squeezing me tightly Choking me With emptiness Stuffing it Down my throat I'm filled with it The Empty.
I can't. Please stop asking me. I can't do this anymore.