As I lay in the dark on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I ponder. I'm not entirely sure what I ponder.
Why I'm here perhaps?
Why I can't sleep, even though I know that being tired tears away the walls my brain has built over the past months to keep away the feelings of hopelessness, despair and loneliness.
I think about not having a person. How I used to a while ago, until I fucked the whole thing up by being me. I never rebuilt myself after losing that person, just tried to stick myself back together with a dry glue stick and ended up ripping away more and more, until I found sellotape. But at night, the sellotape starts to peel away and I remember the feeling of loneliness.
Because although I have people that love me, I don't have a person I feel as if I could call at any hour. I don't have a person I feel won't try to make me feel smaller by judging my feelings against their own problems. I don't have a person.
Perhaps that's what I'm pondering.
Perhaps I ponder how other people can be so happy all of the time, when it's so hard for me to stay together with my dry glue and limited supply of sellotape.
Perhaps it's why I can't seem to cry even though my brain and begs my body and my throat is dry although it wants to and my head hurts as if I already did.
Perhaps I simply ponder nothing at all as I day-dream, unable to dream in my sleep.
Perhaps I ponder everything at the same time.
But as I stare up at the ceiling in the dark in my bed, I ponder everything and nothing all at the same time.
YOU ARE READING
My brain
Não FicçãoA collection of my night-time thoughts in hopes that someone can relate and give me some advice, as well as some advice of my own
