One person witnessed me at my very worse, rock-bottom, surviving the earthquakes caused by the unstable ground I walk on. You’re one person I wasn’t afraid of being judged by, but I noticed the very human things about you that made me jealous of who you are.
My heart wakes me up. It’s screaming through my chest, shaking the bed I’m laying on. I get up, tired and thirsty, shamelessly spitting shame on my sheets. I can barely walk. My legs are occupied by my heartbeats. It’s a storm. I don’t have the dignity to bring myself up but I manage to. I stumble to the bathroom, forcing myself to hydrate what’s left of me and for once I can’t look at the mirror. It’s been some time since I stopped recognizing the person in front of me but right now, in this moment, with my heart beating in my throat and my stomach jumbled up with my thoughts, I don’t want to see the person in front of me. I feel sick. I am sick. I don’t dare to look.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t remember anything from the past 2 years but I do remember who I was, who I still am, who I’ve tried to kill. It was all in vain. I can’t kill her. I don’t want to anymore because I don’t remember anything since waking up except thinking that I’ve lost the sense of who I am. I’m in a dark room surrounded by my fear of being ever-so-slightly human. I don’t want to be here anymore. It scares me and I’m the only one who can get myself out but I feel safe when I’m confined. The sun outside can burn through my skin, through my soul, through my rusted heart – that isn’t ticking clockwise anymore – and possibly plant something good in me.
My heart is spilling itself out for me. My conscious is slapping me repeatedly so I can at least feel pain but I feel nothing. My cheeks aren’t red, my eyes don’t burn but I feel my heart flutter to the thought of who I used to be. I miss the girl who lived with laughter and love. I simply miss loving. I miss loving glitter, hot-cocoa, running in the snow, warm hugs, sitting in silence or trying to make someone laugh, listening and actually caring. I miss caring. I miss standing for things, mending hearts and showering people with kindness. To the girl caged inside of me: I need you to come out.
I wonder why I’m here because I have no clue what brought me here.
I took a one-way ticket to a deranged world and I need to get out. I have too much to offer and everything to lose, yet, helping myself is a war I’m still fighting in. I’m a message in a bottle thrown into the ocean and I’m afraid of being found. I want the waves to dethrone the cork ruling over me, shatter the walls of this castle and let the water consume me. I want to wilt away. I want my words to fade and my meaning to lose itself. I’m scared of being understood but I’m also scared of drowning. I can’t sink to the ocean floor because my bones can’t handle the cold and my body can’t carry me against the water.