Late hours and the lack of sleep altogether have been fucking up with your head more than usual lately. You feel like a car crash, and you look like one too (albeit you’re rather used to it, you have a mirror after all). Your muscles twitch and ache, your lungs burn with every inhale all the while your glasses hide shadows for eyes. All of your body is set alight, its crevices snapping and cracking on every turn. When you roll over in bed, you can hear the constant faint crackle of your bones. It’s unnerving, but you pretend.
You pretend that it’s fine, you pretend that you’re holding on and that your body is not crumbling under the heavy feeling of exhaustion. You pretend you can stand upright even if you’re just three mental illnesses in a trench coat. You drink what became your daily dose of painkillers just so you can get out of bed, just so you can put one foot in front of the other. Without the pills you can’t even stand up straight, but you persevere. It’s you demonstrating how strong-willed you are, pretending that you’re a better human being by not folding like an accordion under all this weight and pressure.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Your body burns.
“One more day,” you say under your breath as you plaster a weak smile on your face and walk into the office.
Sometimes you dream of better times, sometimes you dream you finally start living. Multitude emotions that are mixed into one wash over you: hope, fatigue, desire and melancholy in the early morning hours when you’re barely conscious. It’s beautiful and devastating at the same time.
“I could have loved you forever.”
The words echo in your mind. You wonder… You remember these from somewhere. Another time maybe? Another life maybe? Or was it something you once said to yourself when thinking of falling in love but ultimately deciding not to? Love. Being with someone, waking up with someone and falling asleep with someone. Holding someone, having someone to lean on and providing everything in return as vigorously and lively as possible. It’s all about give and take and balance when it comes to love, when it comes to anything to be honest. It’s all about unquestionable love that makes us silly and stupid and has us ready to jump of off a cliff feeling that we can fly.
But you’re not in love, you haven’t been for a while, you haven’t been for years. You dread it now, you avoid it like the plague. You don’t have the energy for it and you don’t wan to fall in head first. So you don’t. You don’t want the heartbreak and the drama and being so upset that it’s impossible to exist. You may not be filled to the brim with empathy, but the sympathy you feel towards someone hurting sometimes makes you want to explode. But all you do is implode and hurt yourself the most in the process.
Love is not for everyone and it is definitely not for you. It stands against everything you worship and believe in. You relish control and love is the exact opposite of that. It’s about having none.
“Says she wants to be in love but doesn’t like emotions.”
Bullseye, bingo.
You come back home and sit in the uninterrupted silence of an endless darkness of your flat. It’s heavily snowing outside but the snow’s white brightness does not reach your windows yet, it seems quite the opposite, as it’s pitch black. The dark silhouettes of your furniture turn and twist into something unrecognizable in the room.
Sometimes, when you sit like this, you see blood under your fingernails and feel ash dancing on your skin. Sometimes, when you sit like this, you smell the strong rot of a corpse long forgotten. Sometimes, dying is weird.
“I am doing the best I fucking can,” you scream exhaustedly into an empty room.
Sometimes your best is jut not enough.
