Falling Up

39

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do.

I'm just sorry.

I feel like I'm not enough. I'm never enough and every part of me just wants to rip through this wall of flesh and discover what's inside because that has to feel better than this does. This hurts. It's like someone has lit a match and tossed it at my feet just to watch it engulf my body and melt my flesh into greeting cards from something I never got to feel. Ghost touches flick across my skin and for a moment I prayed, but I soon realized it was nothing. No one. And I was still alone, in my room, surrounded by nothing except slips of happiness that was so fleeting in the grand scheme of things. Happiness that never lasted.

I look at your handwriting that seems etched into my world and I can feel it under my finger tips.

I feel her blame me for those things that didn't seem to go right.

I feel the gazes focused on the bun on my head that held it's place so high but fell so soon. I feel them trying not to let their gazes drip to the tear tracked cheeks that rested just beyond their line of vision.

I feel everything but nothing at the same time.

I wished I could feel you though. I wished I could feel your fire light beneath my feet and wake me from whatever I'm feeling right now.