Wrapping myself up in lie after lie compiling patch work quilts of all of my mistakes, and all of the reasons why I am not enough.
I look around me and everyone is alone, everyone feels alone. Fuck I am alone.
Loneliness is something I think everyone is afraid of, but how can you prevent loneliness when you feel so fucked up that you can’t get close to anyone.
Someone tell me I’m okay, and hold me. Squeeze me until I can feel my heart beating again, deep inside my chest.
Breath. Breath. Breath.
Take my breath and put it back into me, punch my lungs until they feel again.
Cardinal birds, chirp in my rib cage, asking to come out, begging to sing to spread their wings and stretch.
I want them out, I feel guilty for trapping them in.
But I don’t know how they will escape. Out of my lungs?
I feel like prying my rib cage open and letting them out, digging my fingers deep into my skin until I feel my bones open.
I am afraid that once I open my chest all I will find is dead birds, why waste my time.
I don’t feel like I belong, to anyone or with anyone.
My heart hurts. My legs are weak. My stomach is sinking, deeper, deeper. Stop.
My head is full of crow feathers and my ears are stuffed with tar.
Each foot lifted feels like a bag of bones, each hand shook feels cold and dead.
Corpses, I am surrounded by corpses.
I am mourning the loss of myself along with the ones walking aimlessly around me.
Take my hands and build me up, because I sure as hell can’t. Stop.
My head is humming, my thoughts are daggers stuck in the crevice of my brain.
Eyes sting with thoughts of sour lemon memories squeezed into my eyes.
The moon is lost, and so am I.
Mourning the loss of all of the alive things, obsessing over the things that are dead.
Mutter to me that I’m normal.
Mutter to me that I have someone.
Mutter to me that I am loved, because I can’t love myself.
Pushing back strands of salt water hair soaked from the ocean.
Glancing down at the snails moving faster than my thoughts
Pouring my heart out hoping someone will cup their hands not letting the juices seep through their fingertips.
I am dripping,
Holes puncturing my skin, my heart has sprung a leak.
Scrambling to put it all back in its place wondering how the hell I ended up like this.
Stop, tell me I am dreaming, tell me I am anything more than a speck, and that my problems are even smaller.
Stop telling me I matter, because I can’t seem to tell myself that.
Tell me I’m 5 again, replace my childhood with someone else’s.
I don’t recognize my own reflection, peering into the mirror until I am dizzy with disbelief.
Stop and look at me, does no one see what I see, a broken person.
A lonely person.
Someone that’s lost in the forest of their own god damn mind, give me a fucking compass so I can direct myself out of this place.
All the landmarks seem the same as when I was younger, but why can’t I recognize my way back home.
Stop, tell me that I am a lot more than the skin I’ve been dragging around like a wet jacket to big for my tiny frame.
Jumping in puddles seems like such a good idea, I just keep getting wetter and wetter dragging around rags of dirt and muddy water.
Walk with me?
Walk with me and make me feel like a kid again, double-dutch my head away from wherever we are, I’ve been here for years but I can’t seem to recognize anything.
When hopscotch was an escape and butterscotch coated my tongue, everything seemed so simple.