The Lies We Live

vacuum

had a knife in my back when I wrote this sh*t

It hurts. It hurts to go to sleep at night when you know that you will have to wake up 100 mornings, just to get to the one that is a good morning. Maybe even more. It hurts to eat because the food gets stuck in your throat, with the words you're trying to say but no one seems to hear. It hurts to cry; your head is pounding and your friends get mad at you for caring so god d*mn much. 

But you got my hopes up. You made believe, just for a second, that i was important. That i was validated somehow. That you liked me. And I hate you for making me feel that way. 

It sucks because now I will spend years building back the confidence that you stole from me in a matter of hours. I will always look in the mirror and feel the burning sting of rejection. I will hate myself, even though I shouldn't. Why would you say that looks never mattered if they really did?

Because this isn't even about you. It's about all men and all relationships. I'm tired of talking to people only to feel even more lonely at the end of each conversation. I'm tired of the men who want s*x; is my presence not enough for you? Am I not enough to make you feel happy? It just feels like you would want me for all the wrong reasons. 

I don't think I can do this anymore. I can't find meaning in a life that is void of any meaning. Where people can hurt you without hurting themselves in the process. Out there, I'm happy, but I would be lying if I said that I was happy on the inside. 

The truth is, I'm terrified I won't find love. I won't be able to make a family, because I feel like I'm loosing a little bit of of my own family everyday. I can't relate to my parents anymore. I know they love me, and it seems to be for all the wrong reasons. How can you have such amazing friends, who will take you out so you don't have to deal with this despair, and yet still feel utterly alone at night. 

Why is it that every time I reach out, the person on the other end is always reaching back for my throat. I feel choked. I remember being 15 and feeling like I had a future in front of me. When I wrote that poem that everyone loved so much. But I haven't written like that in years. Because being smart only gets you halfway there. How is it possible for someone to exist with so much insecurity?

I remember my high school teachers loving me. Because I was smart and caring, always bursting with potential. But that was high school. The real world doesn't give a f*ck about who you are or what you do. The universe is indifferent to your suffering, I've learned; your sadness doesn't cause the earth to stop revolving around the sun. Your suicide attempt didn't cause the tides to stop churning. 

I feel like I'm back in that dark place again. Except this time I'm older, and I should be able to handle this. But i have no strength to be myself, when it feels like that's not enough. 

I wish he didn't do that. I wish there was hope out there. But time and space never accommodate your misfortune. You are stuck in this black hole that's sucking the living daylights out of you.

I remember learning that space is a vacuum, and because of that, there's no medium for sound to travel through. 

That means that no matter how hard I scream, no one will ever be able to help me.