The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet

Secret in a bottle

Do you sometimes feel like you could drown? Like you've been holding on so hard to your negative feelings that you feel a weight pulling you down? When that little voice keeps whispering that you're not worth anything, never...? And still you smile at those who ask and simply reply: "Yeah, I'm fine".

You're sad, so you ignore it. Others feel sadder than you. You're angry. But you're just overreacting. You're happy, you're down, you're flying among the clouds, then back down at sea pushed and shoved by the waves. And it's all fine. You push down your feelings, your secrets, the lies and the pain and the fake smiles. Down and down it all goes into a distant bottle in a distant place, far far away from you. It's all fine. Fine, you will sing, fine fine fine, as you dance to happy tunes. And down down down it goes, shove it down, down into the bottle, down and away from your mind. Far far away, fine fine fine!

And then one day, something's different. You push and push but it doesn't work anymore. So you approach the feared bottle and cry in dismay. It was so far you didn't notice before. It was forgotten so you didn't realize until it was too late. With spurts and gasps, the cork begins to unscrew, little things burbling out. A good morning, a goodbye. Fine, fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, fine... Or maybe I'm not. No, I'm just being dramatic. Everyone hates you, so you scream, I'm fine. You try to close the bottle and you manage to hold it in a while longer. You smile, you wave, I'm fine! A strained smile, another wasted day. God this is awful. No, no, it's okay! Cracks start to appear, but no one seems to notice. Because nobody cares! Yes they do, everyone loves me. They hate you, they despise you, they're relieved when you leave! Lalalala I can't hear you! It's only a matter of time before you're all alone again. Little cracks, they're too small. No one sees the struggle, how much energy it takes you even to smile now. You try not to cry, try not to be a pathetic little creature. What are you, three? There's no point in crying over spilled milk. Don't be a crybaby, don't be a crybaby. You can hold it in. Wait until you're alone. Then nobody will see you break. You can crumble on your own, keep the façade. Yes, I'm fine, my weekend was great, it's great to see you, yeah the exam was hard, but I'm fine. Fine. What does that even mean anymore? F, for feeling. Feeling all that you had left behind, all that pain, all those memories. I is for imagine, imagine all the lies, all those people laughing at you. N is for never, never again, you never want to feel anymore, no more feeling, please stop! E is for everything, all that crumbles apart, little glass pieces cutting your body. It's all gone now, no more bottle, no more lies. Look at the mess! I guess there is no way to fix it again, there's no point after all. Who would even care about a broken joke?