Earlier today, I felt almost happy. I felt beautiful. Confident. Even a bit . I felt good about myself for a few hours.
Then I got shot off my pedestal.
Now I've fallen from cloud nine to rock bottom with no way of getting up. No rope to hold but the noose dangling around my neck.
I don't know why people hurt me so much. I wish I could make myself impervious to their daggers aiming at my heart, but despite my efforts the knifes still pierce me.
I've been on the verge of tears for hours but can't seem to shed a single tear.
My thoughts keep bouncing off the walls of my skull. I tried to write a song but couldn't make it past the first verse. I can't concentrate. A poem would be worthless, a jumble of words and thoughts that have everything and nothing to do with each other. A string of melancholy fascinations.
So here I am, laying in bed at one in the morning chewing on a safety pin and typing away on my computer. I'm wondering what to do with myself. Go on meds and risk turning into a lifeless robot or, even worse, walking closer to the edge of this emotional cliff I live on. But that isn't something I'd do. Pills aren't my friends anymore. They never were.
So where does this leave me?
