When Good Things.....Well, Shit.

When Good Things......Well, Shit.

12:20 AM 6/24/2015

A midnight therapy session.

Waiting and hating it. 
Wanting more and resenting it. 
Restless and edgy and afraid,
and so mad at myself
I choke on it. 
Things will always be,
"it'll get better"
and never once, better.

Stuck in a moment that never ends, 
always leaning forward
trying to bend, 
but breaking instead. 
I get pulled back, 
yanked down,
And I feel it.

It's here, now
dragging, dulling, grasping
Thicker than water,
and nowhere near
 as clean.

I want to move, 
to walk, 
burst into a run,

I want out.

But I can't.
I'm here, 
too present to pretend otherwise.

Apathy and sarcasm 
shielded the worst,
blocked the grief 
and disappointment.
Once armor, now injury.

Wanting more, 
needing more.
So fucking tired, 
too exhausted to be kind
 and calm.

I see a short way ahead of me. 
I "know" the right answer.
The right destination.
Knowing the truth 
and fighting for it...
Well, Shit.

I don't want death.
I can't stand the thought
of obscurity.
To be here,
to live here,
 and leave without the world 
knowing I was here...
Hurts worse than actually being here.

I've never wanted death,
but how do I live,
when living is what hurts?
I'm pretending.

Smile. Nod, repeat.
pretend. Or not.
Casual despondency, 
so no one 
tries to care for a minute. 

Fuck pity. 
Fuck concern stirred by guilt
and shame.
I'll do this all,
I will be me.

I'll be the me I should have been,
before Life went sideways,
and I lost my way.
Things will always hurt. I'll always 
feel sick and sad.

I've never been me.
I've always been her.
I want to BE ME.


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