theories

Mom

i'm dying.

I think i've known for a while.
I was too openhearted to realize
that my heart was revealed to the open air, and too naive to remember it's my lungs that breathe.

I took blow after blow, too stubborn to admit i'm supposed to protect myself and too blinded by hope to understand how tired it made me.

And i'm so tired. i'm 19 years old, i'm still a child it seems, and even though i haven't had my fill, i've had my fair share. I'm dying.

I'm too old to crawl into my mother's arms, safe from harm, and too young to crawl into a lover's. I can't just throw my manners aside, my responsibility, my life.

But at night, when i've shed my last tear, all i know is that i want to shed my skin. i'm dying.

I cannot close my ribs around my heart. I cannot stop facing things head on. I cannot stop without having my fill. I cannot die now.

So i hope you'll understand that all there's left for me to do is crawl into a lover's arms. Understand that for a while, i have to stop living in order not to die.

I know you won't understand. You never have, never could, and i'm sorry. But remember this,

i'm alive.