that’s what they tell me. sprawled on the floor, scrolling aimlessly. because in this world, so many people are beautiful, and perfect, and how could ever i hold a candle to that? honestly.
because i haven’t eaten. and i forgot to sleep. so my eyes are scooped-out hollows, my wrists are this close to giving out the ghost. but i’m so far away, you know? and, in the end, it’s all right. because this is my body, my life. i can set it in fire, if i like. and what are you going to do?
hold my hand? and whisper gently, oh, baby, you’re going to be fine. you can breathe, all right. just listen to me.., because i love you, i really do… and i’d do anything to make you happy…
but my mind is a tired machine. but my lungs are deflated balloons. but my mind is a smoking train wreck, and sometimes, i survive the collision. but sometimes, you find my body, in the charred remains. and the doctors say there’s nothing you can do.
but i’ll pick myself up. and dust off the bullet wound, like i always do. wrap myself up, in a singed, cardigan. because you don’t have a clue.
but maybe someday, it’ll get better. maybe things will work out. but… right now, i’m just lost. and sad. and really confused.