letters never sent

infant wails

i often contemplate about the mysteries of life after death, i spend my time staring at nothingness and thinking about how everyone is able to move forward while i, on the other hand, don't even have a vial of energy to spare because i spent it all on forcing myself to live another day. 

in roadtrips, i always get lost by how blurry the world was in my eyes and my life felt empty; i was embarrassed by its thinness, the way people might be embarrassed by wearing a stained or threadbare piece of clothing and i felt that where i was wasn't anywhere at all. i instantly knew i was living a life with danger of vanishing but sometimes i wish i could just find a way to lose myself altogether. 

i never held a hand who could hold me as i was slipping away, the warmth of having someone to be my voice when i choose to be silent for all the things i should scream about-it was all too foreign to me, it was a warmth i knew but never felt, a comfort i understood but never had. i am a person who's known for being loud, for being a blabbermouth, for saying reckless statements without putting much thoughts into it but i keep my mouth shut when it comes to painful things. i never had the courage to tell a soul about my silent battles against myself but i once tried to put into words what i was feeling but the words only turned as infant wails: i'm terrified, confused, and lonely. i don't want to be broken, hold me, touch me, embrace me, love me.