there are bigger worlds than you, my dear
there are more things for you to see out there
than your oceans and your fears
and your dreams, my god do they control you?
do they haunt you, do they taunt you
or do they set you free?
the world is your oyster, but it is not your seed
it doesn't owe you a god damn thing
Today I am frustrated. Because I can’t get that poem that I’ve been working on for weeks quite right. Because the internet I just got isn’t working on my phone, and I don’t know why. Because, after leaving the poem, I took a shower and gave into the urge to just lay on the floor and feel the cold water hit my skin, like it could wash it away. I would be nothing but bones and meat and blood then.
After uncurling myself from the floor of the tub, I curled myself onto the couch, and wondered how tight of a ball I had to make with my body in order to disappear.
Maybe identity theft would be a better option.
I find myself only writing about the pretty parts of life, or maybe the ugly parts if they’ve taught me a pretty lesson, but the truth is, life isn’t pretty. I have an illness which, no matter how many steps I take to conquer, always seems to be there, crawling in the back of my mind and overtaking my body when I feel alone.
Alone is how I feel today.
I feel silly, unloved, a burden to my friends and my family and to society. No one has ever wanted to be more than just friends, and my silly brain tells me they don’t even want that, really. They’re just being polite. They don’t text me back because they don’t like me, not because they have lives of their own. But I want to feel his arms around me again, or her hand in mine again.
I’ve been meaning to go to the bank for a week now, but it’s a 20 minute drive each way, and when I get back I’ll have to fill out paperwork and then do an interview to get my name on the lease. I’m scared they’ll say I can’t stay here and kick me out. I don’t want to end up on the street. I know I won’t end up on the street – I have family that would take me in – but I don’t want to be kicked out. I don’t want to be kicked out.
Please don’t kick me out.