Assuage the Emotions: A Collection

Black-Stained Hearts

I'm sorry;

I could not live up to your standards;;; that I've morphed into someone who can no longer walk through a hallway without the fear of being ridiculed by beings who have never even noticed my weakened smile.

I'm sorry;

any sensible pieces of my brain will s c a t t e r out into this never ending universe whenever someone simply glances in my direction;;; that I can't walk into a room without my mind buried beneath my shoulders, trying to make myself oblivious to surroundings that are already dulled.

I'm sorry;

that I can't speak aloud in an unfamiliar space without widened eyes and curt, meek sentences backed with no breath at all;;; that there's a pit in the depths of my stomach which is constantly burning a hole through my confidence.

I'm sorry;

that I can't plant my own two feet on the ground in the morning to face another monotonous day;;; that everything is filled with self hatred and my world is surrounded by a facade of happiness whose foundation is made of sticky white lies and plasitc smiles.

I'm so sorry;

that I'm done and I can't take this constant battle within myself anymore. Surely there's a place to turn to- someone I can turn to- but what will I say when I find this dependability? It's not like I can ask someone to fix this fucked up something embedded in my brain when I, myself, am working to figure out what this something even is. I can't awaken one day to a constantly blinding sun with a radiant face and tell you with all earnest that

I am okay;

when I don't even believe this sentence when I whisper it to myself in the mirror while the mascara b l e e d s down my face and into my black-stained heart.

~~

June, 2015