Distant even if I don’t want to be. But, as much as I long for someone’s touch, I’ve had to keep far away from everything. People, poetry, sports, work to some degree. Everything. I’ve had to clear my mind of all the lies I’m told each time I bother reaching out for any kind of help. You know, those knee-jerk reactions spewing out of our mouths like, “You are loved,” or, “You’re not alone!”
I don’t mean to sound harsh, but yes. Yes, I couldn’t be more alone than I’ve been at any point in my life. And, no, I couldn’t be loved lesser than I am today. Does that mean I don’t love myself nor have happy, go-jolly days? Of course not. But, no matter what I do, I find myself alone, insulted by a few as I get done with my daily responsibilities.
Because, with as much as I’ve asked for help regarding my mental health, most have just pushed me to the side like the empty wrapper of their favorite candy after chewing all up. Chewed up only to become stale and bitter for the last 5 years of a life I am not happy with. Even with streaks of dried blood surrounding my wounds make not a single eye flinch towards my way. Feels like I’m always left to ask myself, “Do I have to die for someone to just, think about me? For just a second?”
Apologies for my sorrows permeating through my grim words, but I refuse to lie to myself any further. I’ve tried running way, smoking it all down to a pile of ash that seemingly never ends, drinking it until I’ve drowned in my dearest dream in perpetuity, yet I am still at a stalemate with my demons…
Why? Who knows. Maybe, the spit flying from my lips every time I talk really is acidic, burning right through the soul of anyone that comes into contact. Maybe, it really is all in my head while I blind myself from seeing those trying to grip my hand with genuine love. But, regardless of my perpetual confusion, rights and wrongs, I’ve been screaming for help with every stomp I take towards my inevitable escape from darkness and, no one has appeared from the dust I was left to rot in…
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