Is this what pain feels like

late

it's 2 am and am alone.

nothing can save me and nothing can bore me.

with these voices that laugh yet nothing to laugh for.

save me, I cry under the heavy weight of burden and fear and anger in these voices.

the thick and dense darkness becomes less like a shadow but a thing.

I feel like I am watched and heard but why am I running away from this and asking for help when being alone is a problem and being heard is possibly the only thing that can get these voices to stop.

help me.

hungry, I am.
but a sigh to hide the fact that the screaming behind my stone cold expression can hurt.
the silence being louder than the ringing that we disregard.

ignore.

nepenthe, I hope.
I need a distraction to heal what's not there.
I need someone to protect what's already gone.

escape.

I always escape from everyone, but look back when I tell them to go away.
a window of escape.
the window, trees and blinds.

the hide us from the people out there but what if we are trying to hide what's inside.
the window of me is my body and the blinds are my words.
the me is my thoughts yet our thoughts can't be heard.

is this all there is to my crazy side. a late night thought and a tapping on a glass or silicone screen on a rectangular object that has a value of what I am probably worth.

an object that is more important.
valuable.
useful.

pain.

is that was we are supposed to feel?
if this is what we are feeling all the time then am I selfish.

selfish because I don't want to feel pain, or selfish because I don't want help.

what's more.

living in a world where you're unhappy or suicide.
which one is more selfish.

my selfish escape