I bottle everything up, I keep my emotions hidden under layers of insecurities that I have carefully aligned, I pretend I am okay, that those feelings will never have the power to affect me, It is not healthy I know but I do not want to be a burden, I do not want to have people worried about me. It is a way of life that I have constantly chosen; I took my time to learn how to pretend to be strong, I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself.
I spin the bottle in my brain trying to match the weakness with a name, but one side of the bottle is always facing towards my name, "Do not worry, there must have been a mistake" I tell myself as I anxiously spin the bottle again, as I do over and over again, it will always choose to land on my name. But I keep going through this battle in my head, hoping somehow things will change and point at someone else, hoping I can find a way through this bottleneck.
I fill my glass with whiskey which has been a good friend of mine recently, I drink until I am seeing double, but it only shows me how lonely I am, twice. The deepest feelings always come after the things you do to make yourself feel numb. I never asked to be the hero of my story, and I never wanted to be the villain. My brain made me both and neither at the same time.
I stay home all the time; I tell my friends that I am busy when in reality I cannot handle the truth of leaving the bed. Trapped in my own mind; slow-moving traffic in my brain I want so desperately to get out of but I cannot find the nearest exit. I am stuck. I lay my head on my tear-stained pillows as I tremble with fear. Fear that I will never make my way out of this, that if I find the next exit I will end up in the same place, that there is no right exit, it does not exist. My desire for knowledge is intermittent, but my desire to bathe my head in atmospheres unknown to my feet is perennial and constant.
I am way past keeping track of who hurt me last, it does not burn anymore. My heart can no longer shatter when it has not been pieced together in a long time. I guess you do not realize how quickly everything can fall apart until it does. Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light. Perhaps, one should understand that the mind is its own place, and itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
I have locked rooms in my head that I would not look into. I do not remember what lies behind those doors anymore, I have a faint memory of what I subconsciously did to protect myself. I wonder if there is anything in those rooms or are they unoccupied?. Maybe I will never know, maybe I will never find enough words to fill all those empty spaces in my sentences, maybe a part of me will always be hollow, an empty room.
I am sad and have a passion for unknown, distant places. I want to see the world. And I would love it if I just had the chance to get away for a little while. But sadly, things are not that easy; desire will not change a thing. The world goes on spinning around whether I like it or not. How do I feel? I feel alone. I feel guilty. I feel hurt. But how is it that I feel all of those feelings, and still feel nothing?. I think I am afraid to be happy because whenever I feel happy, something bad always happens.
Eternity is a long time to wallow in guilt. I am guilty, it is not my sins that I hate but myself. Guilt is not always a rational thing; It is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not. It may not have been entirely my fault, but I could not feel innocent of it. And I wonder, would not we all be guilty if someone searched hard enough?. We might be, but the answer to that question will never seem to alter the way I identify with guilt.
The more people I meet the lonelier I become. No one gets me. They cannot relate, and I do not understand them. I speak and they look at me with blank stares. I try to put my hearts' feelings and my thoughts into words and they perceive completely alien views. They are lost, they do not get it. I do not get them and I feel even more alone. So I decided to be alone. I thought that maybe some voids were not meant to be filled. It hurts less not to try. I am learning how to be alone without being lonely. Learning how to be lonely without losing my mind.
I do not know who I am anymore, I am lost. I have started again and again, but I feel like running against the same walls in my head. Pain is what inks my pen, writing stories of what remains, of the happiness turned to pain. This pain is how I know I am awake. I wish I could write, I get these emotions but I never seem to be able to put them into words. I need my soul to distend from my body and float away and be free, to fly and drown and burn and feel everything and nothing at the same time.
There is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are comparable; I simply am not there. I am my own ghost haunting the memories I cherish the most. I see nothing but walls standing in my way. And now I am told that this is life, that pain is a simple compromise.
I probably still have not completely adapted to this world. I do not know, I feel like this is not the real world. The people, the conversations, the places; they just do not seem real to me. I can see myself falling out of my skin over and over again. It was never about me versus the world. It was about me versus myself.
I know nothing and my heart aches. I over-analyze things because I am scared of what will happen if I am not prepared for it. I have spent my whole life terrified, scared of things that could go wrong, things that might happen, things that might not. Running in circles; I could not be with people and I did not want to be alone, I could not be genuinely happy and I did not want to feel down, I wanted to change who I became and I could not let go of the new person I became. I was imprisoned for my thoughts. And albeit I had the keys, I was not sure if I desired to leave.
I have embraced the dawn of summer. Dawn walked in blue and diamonds. Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. It is a fitting punishment for a monster. To want something so much - to hold it in your arms, and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it. And as the sun starts to break through the darkness comes a sunrise with a bright glimpse of hope. Hope is a very dangerous thing, it can drive a man insane. But the sun will rise and we will try again.
