Why am I fucked up at... THIS... moment?
This is not freedom. no, it's something else. It's a chamber, a place where everything is the opposite, turned to the left and bent to a 45 degree angle. This is not where normal is. There is no guessing here, no logic, no sense, nothing. there is nothing here, nothing in this for me. But, no matter how hard I pull the door, push, kick to get it open, it won't open, and I'm stuck in this tiny little room, with all of these twisted, morbid things called thoughts rushing towards me. Pressing towards me, threatening to claw at my skin, to tear off this fake shield against them. I can't even pretend to know what I'm doing anymore. I can't. I can't stand this room. i can't stand these voices, these things, words, actions, I can't stand it anymore. I can't pretend to be okay with this, I can't pretend to be 'strong', in control of myself. I'm not. I lost control when it got dark in here. I lost control when the air supply was cut off. I lost control LONG ago, my friend, and I can't handle it much longer. soon, all of this poisoned air is going to get to me, i'm going to suffocate, i'm going to put my arms down from exhaustion, and they're going to get me. My shield, this insignificant little piece of a face, expression, fake smile, is going to be torn away from me.
and then the door will open, light will shine through, and all of those people, the real people, the ones who have lives, loves, thoughts that make sense, are going to see me, after I've given up, lost it all. They're going to catch me in the act, but they won't see that I wasn't doing it, because those fucking demons will have run away snickering about how they got me again.
No, no, I can't stand this much more. Freedom is somewhere else, not in this tiny room, where rotten apples is the reigning scent. I can't sit in there much longer...
if you thought you could predict this, predict it all, you were wrong. everything you think is wrong. everything you feel, guess, think is wrong. Your logic is nonsense. Your sense is rediculous. You don't know these thing, no one does... and you are the last one who will see me in this place, when I do fall apart, even if you are first in line.
but man, why couldn't I say something? verbally say the words that will describe perfectly how I feel, words that will give you empathy, a moment of enlightenment.. surely those words exist, don't they? If I could learn them, if I could learn the language, If I could learn to think again, to feel again, to understand myself as well as the world around me without strain, I would use them for you. I would pass the gift to you, so you could see, so it would make sense again. I wish, I wish, I wish it would all go away. I wish this was all a dream. I wish I was insane, and this was all some drug-induced halucination while my real self is lying in a hospital somewhere, dead and undead, alive but far away from itself...
why can't I sleep well anymore? Why can't I feel awake when I need to think? Why can't I grab a thought, and hold onto it? Why can't I hold onto her voice? Why can't I hold onto his sight? Why can't I hold onto anything anymore? Where has it gone, that thing I thought was a gift? Why can't I make music, feel, love, understand, know, explain, not CARE anymore? where did all of that stuff GO? Why can't I be ME again? Why can't I go back to grade nine and avoid that room, why can't I fix everything, why can't i figure out myself, why can't i know what's happening around me anymore, why can't I stay with it, Why can't I really be here without being somewhere else, why can't I stay, why can't I go, Why Can't I ignore everything said behind my back,Why can't I NOT notice everything I think they're thinking but not thinking, Why did my life end up like this, Where did they go, Why did I get paranoid, who made me this way, why did their words affect me so much, why did I let it get to my head, why can't I just live again, learn normally, not zone out, stay with it, be a friend not a wierd situation, why can't i be a normal person and be happy-
Why can't I cry?
Why can't I sob?
Why can't I feel love?
Why can't I be hugged?
Why can't I hug?
Why can't I be loved?
Why can't I...
Why...
Why am i like this?
and then the door will open, light will shine through, and all of those people, the real people, the ones who have lives, loves, thoughts that make sense, are going to see me, after I've given up, lost it all. They're going to catch me in the act, but they won't see that I wasn't doing it, because those fucking demons will have run away snickering about how they got me again.
No, no, I can't stand this much more. Freedom is somewhere else, not in this tiny room, where rotten apples is the reigning scent. I can't sit in there much longer...
if you thought you could predict this, predict it all, you were wrong. everything you think is wrong. everything you feel, guess, think is wrong. Your logic is nonsense. Your sense is rediculous. You don't know these thing, no one does... and you are the last one who will see me in this place, when I do fall apart, even if you are first in line.
but man, why couldn't I say something? verbally say the words that will describe perfectly how I feel, words that will give you empathy, a moment of enlightenment.. surely those words exist, don't they? If I could learn them, if I could learn the language, If I could learn to think again, to feel again, to understand myself as well as the world around me without strain, I would use them for you. I would pass the gift to you, so you could see, so it would make sense again. I wish, I wish, I wish it would all go away. I wish this was all a dream. I wish I was insane, and this was all some drug-induced halucination while my real self is lying in a hospital somewhere, dead and undead, alive but far away from itself...
why can't I sleep well anymore? Why can't I feel awake when I need to think? Why can't I grab a thought, and hold onto it? Why can't I hold onto her voice? Why can't I hold onto his sight? Why can't I hold onto anything anymore? Where has it gone, that thing I thought was a gift? Why can't I make music, feel, love, understand, know, explain, not CARE anymore? where did all of that stuff GO? Why can't I be ME again? Why can't I go back to grade nine and avoid that room, why can't I fix everything, why can't i figure out myself, why can't i know what's happening around me anymore, why can't I stay with it, Why can't I really be here without being somewhere else, why can't I stay, why can't I go, Why Can't I ignore everything said behind my back,Why can't I NOT notice everything I think they're thinking but not thinking, Why did my life end up like this, Where did they go, Why did I get paranoid, who made me this way, why did their words affect me so much, why did I let it get to my head, why can't I just live again, learn normally, not zone out, stay with it, be a friend not a wierd situation, why can't i be a normal person and be happy-
Why can't I cry?
Why can't I sob?
Why can't I feel love?
Why can't I be hugged?
Why can't I hug?
Why can't I be loved?
Why can't I...
Why...
Why am i like this?
prematurely released by Norah at 9:21 PM
1 Comments:
Gosh, where could I start that would make a difference in your life! I am so sure you are loved, in many ways... Just mis~understood. Mis~diagnosed, un~diagnosed (forgive my spelling) Your stories sound all too familiar, the sun will come out again... music will play, and you'll find peace!
hang in there kiddo.
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