i wish i could feel it
the ache of not being enough
the way it once cracked me open

but now
there’s only silence
an emptiness where sorrow should live

nothing breaking

nothing healing

just

n u m b n e s s

still

Not knowing why
I try
Just to fail again
Get back up
Get pushed down
Not knowing why
Not knowing why...

how could anyone love an eliza
when it stumbles off my tongue
like it doesn’t belong to me?

yeah, call me a ****.
it must be why i’m not only afraid of intimacy,
but any sort of physical touch as well.

Running
Back
And forth
Reach the line

I'm not that bad out of shape
But still struggling

Throat burning
Head pounding as if there's someone trying to bang their way out
And lungs desperately fighting for air

I give up...

I sit down when I reach the line
And try to catch my breathe
Instead of running back

Chest rising and falling
With each gasp for air

Oxygen
Why do you hate me?
Lungs,
Why aren't you working?

Coughs hurt my throat
And make me weak

I take my inhaler
But it isn't working
It's just making me shaky

Panic rising inside me

I can't breathe
I can't breathe
I can't breathe

I take another puff
And wait
1
2
3
4
5
...
Breathe out
And couch violently

I'm going to die
I'm going to die
I'm going to die

No one notices

the vacuum hums,
and i feel it in my chest—
a restless kind of anger,
like a match about to strike.

maybe it’s because the sound
reminds me of yelling,
of my mom’s voice tearing
through the air like it had teeth.
when i hear it now,
i want to scream back,
but there’s no one here to blame.

the only time i can stand it
is when my hands are on the handle,
when i’m in control of the noise.
maybe that’s the metaphor:
it’s not the sound,
but the power to make it stop.