flightlessbutterfly
Mindless Wanderer
- Jun 25, 2023
- 51
This might sound poetic or like a story, don't attack me please. Writing like this is a bit of an emotional outlet, it's really the only place I can do it really.
There are times where I have been so dissociated with reality that I believe that existence is worth it for these little moments. And then there are times I've been shocked out of that delusional sense of hope and the underlying torment of life chains me by the ankles. I want to force the fog to hover over my eyelids, to use temporary coping mechanisms to keep dreading on life one step at a time and fake it until I make it.
But then I'm being slammed headfirst into the pit of my life. I've mostly accepted it at this point. I don't know who I can trust, my mask is so thick no one can tell if I'm genuinely laughing or crying, my identity is shattered into bits and pieces of a glass mirror and I feel unrecognisable, I've stopped properly taking care of my health and the rope that I've held onto for so long is fraying at the seams and despite all of it, I'm afraid. I'm scared. I feel like I'm 13 again when I first witnessed my mother threaten to harm herself with a kitchen knife at 12am because she found out her husband had been cheating on her since before I was born.
I'm aware that if I hold onto the rope, the frayed edges would burn my smooth and calloused palms and I'd be hopelessly holding on in pain. Yet I can't let go, because I'm a coward. And for that cowardice, my palms will burn in agony til the day I let myself be swayed over the edge of a rooftop, or until I hoop in front of the train last minute. Whatever it will be, I can only hope it comes soon.
There are times where I have been so dissociated with reality that I believe that existence is worth it for these little moments. And then there are times I've been shocked out of that delusional sense of hope and the underlying torment of life chains me by the ankles. I want to force the fog to hover over my eyelids, to use temporary coping mechanisms to keep dreading on life one step at a time and fake it until I make it.
But then I'm being slammed headfirst into the pit of my life. I've mostly accepted it at this point. I don't know who I can trust, my mask is so thick no one can tell if I'm genuinely laughing or crying, my identity is shattered into bits and pieces of a glass mirror and I feel unrecognisable, I've stopped properly taking care of my health and the rope that I've held onto for so long is fraying at the seams and despite all of it, I'm afraid. I'm scared. I feel like I'm 13 again when I first witnessed my mother threaten to harm herself with a kitchen knife at 12am because she found out her husband had been cheating on her since before I was born.
I'm aware that if I hold onto the rope, the frayed edges would burn my smooth and calloused palms and I'd be hopelessly holding on in pain. Yet I can't let go, because I'm a coward. And for that cowardice, my palms will burn in agony til the day I let myself be swayed over the edge of a rooftop, or until I hoop in front of the train last minute. Whatever it will be, I can only hope it comes soon.
