A Book of Poems and Stories That I Will Never Publish

Sharp Edges

Authors Note: I wrote this when I was feeling very numb and needed to feel like I was alive

everything is soft. there are no sharp corners or edges, no loud voices or hard surfaces or even bright colors. everything is smooth curves and flowy nothingness complimented by hushed whispers and painfully dull lighting.

i am nothing but an unfocused, heavy spirit floating around aimlessly. i am dreaming. perhaps i always have been. who knows have long this has been going on.

when i'm home alone and forced to confront my mind, i stumble around my house and touch all of the tables and chairs. all the hard, sharp things that i can reach. i scream and shout and punch the walls and stomp the ground trying to wake myself up. i think that maybe they will be able to ground me. that maybe i can be as solid and real and present as these objects. and sometimes it works for a moment. suddenly everything is loud and bright and i am no longer floating. it's like having been drowning your whole life and then being pulled up into fresh air right before you think you're going to die. but it never lasts. i always get pushed right back under.

i have to wake up. i am drifting unconsciously yet i am always aware of the hell i put myself and everyone else through. why can't i wake up. why can't i be better. why can't i control anything anymore. i try to be a good person but i'm so worried all the time. worried i'm not good enough, worried there's someone after me, worried i'm gonna lose everything, worried i'm never gonna wake up again, worried i'm never gonna feel anything.

i spend the majority of my life feeling like a complete fucking psychopath. i don't feel happiness, or sadness, or anger. i'm just a shell of this awful, empty numbness. but every now and then, something happens. i'm allowed a few hours of fresh air and actual feelings. and i feel normal, like one of you guys. like an actual person. and during this time i can feel things. but i get so overwhelmed by them and i feel them all at once. and by time i control the feelings my mind has already cut me off from reality and i'm fucking dreaming again. it's an endless cycle of nothing and then everything all at once and then nothing again. there's something wrong with me i know it. and i know that i'm always tired but i have never truly been awake. as i write this i sit and try to calm my breathing. it feels as if i have been running a marathon. but there's no use in trying to settle my racing heartbeat and collapsing lungs. i don't think i'm really alive either