trigger warning: numbness and confusion
close your eyes; the world hurts too much. ask if anyone’s seen the part of you that cared, and point to the hole in your chest, and when other people don’t see it, grab out your goddamn magnifying glass. show them the cuts and scrapes and bruises. show them the emptiness, but of course they won’t get it, so maybe it doesn’t exist. rock yourself asleep against the quiet nothingness. love is the feeling that makes your heart slam rhythms into your chest this is the start of the song of your life the inspirational posts on tumblr did tell me this. my life is a song but… i don’t know the lyrics yet. hope for something to last so hard it feels like you’re about to shatter the glass heart nestled in chest but i’m still not sure what it is. take off your glasses let the whole world shift in and in and out and in and out of focus. there will be screaming forests and the horror stories and the haunted houses. it’s a choice yes but it’s a choice made out of the belief that i am nothing if i am not a nice neat package. and you’ll call them up begging for someone to remind you why you are alive but the words will stay silent inside and oh my god the sound of your voice is enough to bring every single memory to life, and oh my god why do i want to just die sometimes, and oh my god why do the nightmares follow me every and every night, and i’m spinning again, because the feelings are too much. and i’m punching again and trying to see if this time i can leave bruises because bruises mean some kind of validation, and some kind of closure, and closure means permanence, and i swear i’m working through it with my therapist but right now her office is the only place my mind even makes sense. but maybe these feelings are not just feelings. maybe they are really just a message, and it’s all there in front of me written in code if only i could read it. and maybe someday the ghosts in my chest will all assemble into order and bow before me and start cleaning out my chest. and what i mean by that is every single one of these letters is art but it’s also just me knocking doors in the middle of the night, hoping someone will get it without words when i hold the magnifying glass up to the tears pooling in my eyes. and it’s also just my heart filling up like a hot air balloon before exploding all night. and it’s also my lungs. breathing. and the oceans inside me. and it’s also the feeling of your arms wrapped around my shoulders and my arms wrapped around your shoulders and the way it’s the warmest feeling that even though i’m not sure what it is, something about me made this person care enough to wrap their arms around me. and i still can’t really believe that somewhere between the broken pieces, i managed to make you happy.
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