Living life in black and white noir is not something you could’ve ever imagined. One time you choose a sit under the brightest light at the coffee shop. The second you walk under the street lamp to your car, and then there’s this something snap in you and you just... blackout ― emotionally. I thought that will never happen around these people here, it happened. Then there’s me trembling over hippy song in my friend’s car. Holding myself as hard as I could when everything inside me just shut off. Just... dark.
The only thing I have in mind is “don’t fuck things up, don’t”. Everything inside me has died a long time ago and the pain doesn’t go away ever since. I just make room for it. Battling them myself, every single time. I must be an emotional archaeologist because I keep looking for the roots of things, particularly the roots of behavior and why I feel certain ways about certain things. And everything inside my head just get twisted. From looking at my single cup of cold coffee on the table to thoughts like when did the last cup of coffee I enjoyed so much, was that the last time I thought I could’ve never been happier, is this the last sip of my favorite coffee with my favorite person, what if... my brain is suffocating.
I exist too much, I feel too much, think too much. Reality is crushing the life out of me. I’m fighting myself. I know I am. One minute I want to remember. The next minute I want to live in the land of forgetting. One minute I want to feel. The next minute I never want to feel ever again. If you come back to stomp back on me, you better not. I’ve been dealing with hard things so much I can’t afford to add more. My everyday things are so much more than the surface. I have been walking on a daily basis with my mind collapsing back there. It’s like when someone says, ‘How are you?’ Do you say, ‘Well, my head hurts and I’m lonely and cramped inside and I’m worried about everything and the world is collapsing and full of evil’? Or do you say, ‘I’m fine’? But back here, people just see another me ― the sunshine and they never had the chance to ask ‘are you okay?’
I’m so tired of being suicidal at odd hours and have to pretend nothing happened the next day. I’m so tired of having to call up a friend to accompany me to the loo when in fact I just want to hear someone else’s breathe next line to remind me someone is out there letting me depend on him/her. I’m so tired of protecting everything around me. I just want to end things but God... the feeling after looking at these faces just hold me back. And here’s another thought of what if I just wait a little longer maybe there would be a person who would come by and just say ― tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.
But for now, I think I’ve fucked things up pretty well.