sombre

amaranth eulogies

3:09 PM - saturday september 25th

i walk through the streets, the pavement cold beneath my feet, each step a reminder of the weight i carry. the world presses in, its expectations heavy, suffocating. the voices, the whispers, they echo in my mind-what i should be, how i should act, the mold i should fit. they carve me into a shape that isn’t mine, a form that feels foreign, strange.

i pull my coat tighter, but the chill isn't just from the autumn air. it’s deeper, settled into my bones. the years of being told to smile, to be softer, quieter, more pleasing. the years of hiding my strength, of folding in on myself to fit the spaces they allowed me. it’s like a shadow that follows me, dark and endless, whispering that i'm not enough, that i'll never be enough.

i see their eyes, the way they measure me, weigh me against their standards. i see the way they look at him, their approval in every glance. he fits, he belongs, and i’m just a silhouette beside him, blurred at the edges, fading into the background.

the memories rise, unbidden. the times i tried to speak, to break free, and the way they silenced me. the laughter, sharp and cruel, cutting deep, leaving scars that never heal. i feel their hands, pushing me back, keeping me small. the wound is a knot in my stomach, a tightness in my chest that never loosens, never fades.

i want to scream, to tear off the mask they’ve made me wear. but my voice feels distant, like it's buried beneath layers of doubt and fear. i want to shatter the mirror they’ve held up to me, the one that reflects a version of myself that isn't real.

but i’m tired, so tired. the fight has drained me, left me hollow. i wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together, trying to keep from falling apart.

the streetlights flicker, casting long shadows, and i walk on, my steps echoing in the empty night. i walk on, through the darkness, searching for a light, a way out of this maze they've trapped me in. but all i find is more darkness, more silence, more weight pressing down.

the world demands so much, too much, and i’m left with nothing but the echoes of their demands, the ghost of who i used to be, who i could have been. and the wound, the memories-they cling to me, a second skin, a constant reminder of the battles i’ve fought, and the ones i’ve lost.