Adrift

 

There is so much I want to say, so many words begging to cuddle this blank piece of paper. But I choose to let them whither within me. Or perhaps I lost the ability to create art out of my bleeding wounds? I pray not. All I know is that the words die on my tongue, along with my will to live.

With this scary judge within me, I look back at my past. I cannot help it not to be filled with a desire to undo my being. But the reality is; I just want to escape. When did I tragically stop believing that I deserve goodness? Where did the desire to mess myself up come from? After all these years of building myself up, why am I tragically back to square one?

Every day, I take desperate, steady steps to become the best version that I can be. But the weight of being swallows me up in the process. This state is so scarily familiar. I want to run away from it, or at least have the ability to sit with it, get to the root cause, and solve it all. But the last time I did that, it took me years to be sane again.

It's similar now to back then. My grip on sanity is slowly loosening. Will I ever find my sense of self again? The chaos in my head swallows me up every day. Why did I abandon myself over and over again each time the world turned its back on me? I do not want to exist. I’m falling to pieces. I do not want to exist. I do not want to exist.

Mind you, this is not a cry for death, I do not wish to end me. I just want a safe silent space where all of these overwhelming emotions cannot reach me for a day or two. I wish to be adrift in the sea, but what if I never find my way back to the shore?