against all odds, death is always an escape. as you watch your happy life around you crumble, along with the people, you quickly learn what being on mental stilts is like.
watching your family slowly destroy itself, watching them cave and fall one by one.
knowing that you're never asked if you're okay, and people in your life are complaining about the luxury.
what else is there to do but wallow in embarrassment? embarrassment at the actions of people you once proudly identified with, your honor thrown out for something so disgusting.
knowing the skills you worked so hard on, the things you wanted people to be proud of, no one dares to spare a compliment.
second by second, life passes you by. minutes turn to hours, which turn to days. next thing you know, you're looking back wondering where you went wrong.
"why didn't you ask for help?"
because when I do, I don't get it.
"what's the point in living in sorrow?"
because it's better than living in a brewing pit of hate and rage.
we get one chance to live, and I try my hardest to make sure it is easy for the people around me in the ways I control.
I make sure everyone's okay, I make sure you're happy because nobody makes sure I am.
a branch of myself is dying, rotting off of the family tree. I'm losing so much, and I'm still fucking trying.
because even with those I thought understood, I cannot humor. those who I assumed by now would understand how I operate wouldn't get annoyed from care I actively beg to have.
anger. stuck, forever in the second stage of grief. anger is when I claw at my body, anger is when I leave myself to die.
I get worse, then I get a little better. then I dip even further into the deep waters of wallowing, and lurking depression. entering the territory that's so deep, I can't swim out of it.
diving instead of sinking, I go. further, my lungs collapse on themselves.
from a theoretical mind, would emotional dread be mistaken for intelligence?
could the night fall without another piece of me dying?
lucky is me, not knowing the difference between intelligence and emotional dread.
circle back, why don't you ask for help?
because you don't get it.
why do you live in sorrow?
because you finally feel something strong, for the first time in your life.
the life I watch with a keen eye, the things I know you think and you feel.
I know. I know what you think I don't, inside and out.
vomit. yes, a theme in me lately.
I need to puke, I need to cry.
nothing leaves.
the dark crescents under my eyes not just from my inability to sleep properly, but my lack of nutrition.
inferior utility.
when being weaponized as a person starts to become real again, and all you can do is let it happen.
is it a compliment, or is it slowly wearing down the sharpness of your mind?
because as you use a blade, it becomes slightly more blunt every time you use it.
mistaken for maturity.
knowing. knowing everything you can. doing things with it. fixing things.
that's not maturity, that is common sense.
something so rare, it's seen as something special.
nobody should lack that quality, and yet everyone does.
worship.
if I'm so great, where is my metal?
I don't deserve one, do I?
so why am I used? why am I constantly consuming, constantly learning for the people around me more than myself?
well.
do you reward a screw driver?
no, because that is a tool. the job of a screw driver is to be used.
so what's the difference between me and a screw driver to the average persons mind?
I can breathe, and give direct guidance instead of having to look at the owners manual.
that is the only difference.
poems versus diary entries.
house versus home.
ghost versus me.
the only difference lies within someone.
a poem is meant to move you, a diary entry is meant to explain why something should move you.
a house is a structure made for living in, a home is something love lives in.
a ghost is a phantom entity that nobody understands or sees to its full extent, I am a person that can be understood and seen.
comparable, but not the same.
babydoll, baby, sweet girl, princess, angel, honey, sweetheart, moonshine, Lulu........
drowning in something so sweet, it's irresistible.
I will be someone's kryptonite, and there is no stopping me.
someday, I'll make someone see the full potential of an atomic bomb; a real weapon. I will make them love it, and worship it.
because I've worked my ass of to get what I deserve, and if it won't be handed to me than I will take it.
superior utility, embrace insecurity. early in mornings, late into nights.
