I have had headache for a long time. Longer than I can remember.
And the headache really hurts. Because it's a thumping headache that doesn't go away.
But it is something that doesn't go away and I need to get used to it being there.
I need to get used to it just like I need to get used to the rest of my life. Get used to what it's going to be like from now on.
What is wrong with me.
Why can't I let it go.
Why can't I make it all go away.
And why can't everyone just stop making this worse.
Everything they're trying to do is making it worse.
It doesn't help that the people you thought were your friends are so insensitive that now all they can talk about at lunch is how fucked they want to get and how they all want to coma. And they need it just to have fun. I can't handle. People treating me like I don't care about this. Because I see my friends doing exactly the same thing.
And truth is, I'm scared. I don't want anyone to go down the same track. I don't think I could handle it. But what makes me more angry is that they know I'm going through this. But not one person thinks that maybe it's ok to talk to me like I'm still raw, maybe. That maybe my war wounds aren't even covered with plasters.
And they haven't learnt form this.
How much something like this can totally ruin your life and someone else's.
No one knows anything.
Well someone knows more than nothing.
But no one knows that I'm going to be walking through my life feeling like a failure.
Feeling like I'm not good enough for this.
Not good enough for this air I'm breathing.
Not good enough to be surrounded by people who care.
Because.
This is all my fault. It was never up to my parents to explain the harsh realities of life.
It was up to me. They don't know anything. They know the 60's and the 70's. But today is so much more different and so much harsher. And I was the only one who knew that could tell him. No one else was going to do it. Because You don't go preaching round to your friends, that 'hey, maybe, just maybe, this life is harder than you think it is. If you do this, you will get hurt, if you drive like this you will crash, if you drink lots of this you will coma.'
Oh yeah and if you watch too much television you'll get square eyes and if you eat carrots you will see in the dark and crusts will make your hair curly. Cool because you never wanted curly hair and you never got square eyes and seeing in the dark was due to the torch. I guess that means you never actually drove crazy and you never drank so much you comaed. But you did. I forgot. And that is the reason you've gone. Not to somewhere else. Not some place in the sky or in the ground, although I kidded myself that maybe you could hear what I was saying to you, but I know now that I never believed because there was never even a sign that you maybe even cared. You're a pile of ashes.
And my hand is black and blue for punching the underside of my desk. because that's the only place I can go now when I'm scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of my own thoughts. Scared of letting myself believe. And when I let myself believe for those split seconds I hit the wall so hard it hurts. I hit it so hard it almost dents. And it's all because I could hit you right now. I could punch your face in. Just because you were so damn stupid.
You make me question my own life.
My make me question the meaning of life and if I'm really meant to be here if you are not.
Even though, I still don't believe it. I can't. Because It would just hurt too much.
I hurt myself because I want some of this pain to be gone. Maybe if it hurts now, it won't so much later. Maybe if I wake up in the mornings without being able to feel my hands, or with a head throbbing so hard that I can't see straight, because I take way to many pills, then maybe it means later it won't hurt. It will all go away now.
But I'm cold.
And I'm lost.
I'm running round in circles. Like a girl who swims round and round and no one tells me to stop.
No one.
I'm trying to find the yellow brick road to you.
To me. To who I was before when you were such a big part of my life. When you were my life.
And I can't.
Because I'm all alone in this now.
I'm all alone searching for something that isn't there.
But I'm not admitting that to myself.
Because if I died too then I don't think we would actually be together.
In the eyes of everyone else maybe yes, but seriously, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we would be a pile of carbon in a box.
Although being with you right now is the thing I want the most.
You have no idea.
If I could make one wish, On my candle, on my star, on my dandelion, you know what it would be. And never again will my wish change. Although it can't possibly come true. No one said that I couldn't let myself think you're still here.
So now I hide in a cave in my room where the darkness lingers and the cold stays like frost upon a lawn. And I cry. And I scream. Because no one is here to hear me. I I cry how much it hurts. And I bang the walls so hard that I feel as if they're going to fall down. And I scream so loud that Barack Obama can hear them across that ditch. Because.
Because.
it doesn't help. Screaming and crying.
It makes me feel stupid and dumb.
because I'm an adult for any sake.
I think I'm empty.
I'm a refugee in my own head.
I feel like I'm the only one in poverty when the people around me revel in their wealth. Their wealth being their family, their brothers, their sisters.
I'm falling.
I can't stand up on my own.
I have strings telling me what to do.
They're making me moves for me.
I just hope they don't do anything too damn stupid.
Because I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Or how much longer I'll be around.
I honestly can't say that.
Because my minds is empty of me.
I don't know who I am any more.
I don't.
I am happy. I am laughing.
But that's not Emily.
That's someone else.
Someone I don't know.
But if that's who I have to be from now on, so people keep on talking to me.
Then that's who I'll be.
I can see myself breaking the people around me.
I can't handle it if they start to feel anything of what I'm feeling. WI would never wish this on anyone.
Never ever.
It is the worst feeling in the world.
I could accept it.
Better.
I fi Had gotten to say bye baby bro.
I'll miss you when you're gone.
You were the best.
But no.
All I got was a
'He's dead.'
I don't believe it.
Those Split Seconds Between my life and my death are going to be the longest seconds ever.
Can I feel you.
Or Can I not.
No.
So I guess.
It's goodbye.
For good.
Bye. xxxx
No comments:
Post a Comment