I'm slipping again, like numb feet on slick ice.
My body is falling again. Gravity pulling me back and down until i hit the ground.
Except there is no ground.
I can hear you using my voice. Feel every breath you take with my lungs. Every muscle stretching as you move my body.
But you aren't real... are you?
I want to talk to you but my mind isn't working like it should right now.
Are these your thoughts or mine?
I find it hard to tell these days.
I can feel us blending into eachother until I can no longer tell if I'm you or you're me.
Were we even separate to begin with?
Sometimes I want to scream that I am not person.
I talk and I fumble and I breathe, but there isn't anything beneath the surface.
Sometimes there is too much beneath the surface. Tidle waves of emotions that ripple up and over and spill out, but I am not a person like you.
I am alive and I am struggling and I am failing, again and again, and that seems human to me.
But then there's you. Making conversation, remaining still in your seat, nodding your head and listening like a person should.
And then there's me...
Struggling beneath the surface.
Slipping again, like numb feet on slick ice.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
PoetryI write to cope with life, so maybe this might help someone else cope too, idk. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation, S/A, and Abuse. There's not many mentions of them directly as this is more about my emotions and moments of reflection, all neatl...
