A Collection of Thoughts

Interstate Trash

The type of emotion I feel now is the slow loosing of wanting to do anything. Feeling like I am not enough. 

I am not on the cloud I normally am, floating and swimming in the air. Light as it, and being the closest thing to the sun. 

Instead I am this thing, this sunken into the earth rock wonder, thinking, unable to cry properly about what I feel on the inside of my head and heart. 

Every missed glance, every crushing thought fills my head- "Why should I try, it won't change anything."

I am not made for love, I am made to be used and left like trash on the interstate, rolling and crowded against a wall looking for shelter from those bigger than me to just leave me alone. But they never do.

They bring me in, shine me up, make me start to feel something good and sweet. Then the demons of the past crawl forward in the dark waking me, making me unable to move. Those bigger than me run, taking all the light and warmth with them. Leaving me in the cold, being haunted, and wishing I could just find the warm of love. 

Then the next set of headlights comes. The cycle starts again. Each time ending worse than the time before. 

I wish I could just be recycled. Take the parts of me worth keeping and turn them into something beautiful and useful to the world. But no, I stay a crushed pile of trash, being run over again and again because no one has the time to properly look at me. To inspect the remains and determine what is worthy.