Do you ever just feel the weight of everything crushing you down into the ground?
Do you ever feel your heart ache?
Or your rusting old bones grind against your flesh when you move?
Or your eyes sting after you’ve cried a little too much?
Do you ever wonder if you’ve gone mad? Do you ever wonder if something has gone wrong in your head?
Do you ever just sit there, crossed-legged, in your own bed, through the dead of the night, holding your head with both hands, struggling to breathe, eyes moving in your head, tears stinging your tender cheeks, which you have wiped one too many times in the last hour, wondering just what the hell happened to you?
And in the morning, when you wake up, do you remember the night before, and feel like you’re keeping a dirty secret, as you go on the rest of your day as if you weren’t crying yourself into insanity the night before?
Who are you lying to?
Doesn’t it ever bother you, the constant beating of your own heart? Do you ever wish it would stop? And the way your skin feels, like it’s not yours, do you ever want to get out of it? And time, do you ever think about time? Do you ever just stare at the clock, and does it ever feel like it’s slowing down, or going too fast?
And people, do they make you feel out of place?
Your family, can you talk to them? Do they know you? Would they love you if they knew who you really were?
And the future, can you bear to think of it without wanting to break down and cry? You can barely go through the day, and the idea of a tomorrow makes you cry at night. How the hell do you see yourself in ten years? I’m sure you hope you’d be dead by then. You can’t do this for another ten years. Jesus.
Do you feel like you’re not here? Like you are not you, and the air is not like the air you used to breathe when you were a child, and food just doesn’t taste of anything. Do you always have to check that you’re not numb? Or that your heart is still going? Or look around to remember where you are? Do you wish you would stop yourself checking the time every five minutes? You have no way of knowing how much time you have left. Checking is pointless, for fuck’s sake just stop checking the time!
Are your hands always cold? And your feet? What about your heart? No. Your heart’s not cold. It’s burning for those you love and can’t have. It’s burning for the dreams you have and can’t reach. It’s burning for the hugs you never receive from your father. And that time your mother beat you into a pulp when you were five. It’s burning for your siblings who have moved away, and don’t seem to look back at all. It’s burning for all the friends who have left you behind.
Do you ever look forward to going somewhere, thinking you’d feel better, and once you’re there you realize you don’t feel any different, which then makes you feel worse?
You love reading. Yes, that’s it. You open a book. A few pages in, and you feel nothing. You take nothing in. You might as well just have been staring at scribbles in pages that make no sense. You close the damn book and throw it away. Great, even books can’t help.
What do you do with yourself at this point? Tell me, people, what do you do with yourselves when you can’t stop yourselves crying?