my innermost secrets are like shards of
glass, and i'm cutting up my hands
trying to piece everything back together.
the voice in my head says that one day
things like this won't hurt anymore.
she says the hunger pangs will go away,
maybe even feel like victory.
"the lightheadedness is just your ascent into
a more dazzling, controlled life," she whispers.
meanwhile, the void in my chest swirls,
a black hole sucking up any emotions
that i might've had, telling me this is how
we avoid getting hurt. the glass shards
will feel like nothing, you won't even see them.
whenever it's in charge, i don't see a thing.
time floats by and i wake up days from
my last memory, even though i think i
lived my life for the past week. did i?
how do i make the noise in me stop?
how do i take those shredded secrets and
glue myself back together? i know that
i have to answer these questions for myself,
but when i'm living life in shades of beige,
waiting for the day i wake up as a fully-functioning
adult, it's hard to see my own agency.
