I can't tell you what's wrong

Feelings on a tough day

I can’t. I can’t tell you what’s wrong. There’s nothing there right now. There’s nothing there and too much all at the same time. I feel numb, I feel even, I feel like I’m somewhere else. Somewhere I don’t know the name of. A place that looks like me, and feels like it could be me, a place that wants to be me, but isn’t. I think things that are bad, and I try to talk myself out of them. I know they are bad, but those thoughts, they never leave. It’s foggy. The voices are muffled from the outside. I want to be found, I want to be left alone. I want to stop hurting, I want to hurt as much as I deserve.

You can’t force it out. You can’t command it to go away. You can’t get angry at it. You try not to feed it. No one on the outside understands the battle in your head that is so loud it calls for silence. But the silence is deafening. And frightening. And sometimes it hurts more than the noise. Your red face doesn’t work here. Your power-stricken words used to slice through the pain only cause more pain. Don’t be too gentle though, it will take you for a fool. Use you and abuse you in ways you never thought possible, never saw coming, and will never be able to run from. Hold me, but not too tight. Let me go, but never leave me. Wrap it up in a bandage then slap it where it runs deep. Punish me for punishing myself. Hate me for what I’ve done. It’s easier that way. It makes it more bearable, tolerant, acceptable. Don’t you dare love me for my flaws because then it all goes to hell. Don’t except the demons inside, because they so desperately want to come out to play and they know your voice by heart. Tell me that’s enough. Tell me something worth getting off the ground for. Tell me something that isn’t worth hurting for. But, dear god, please don’t tell me that it’s going to be okay. It’s the one lie I can’t bear hear anymore. I’d rather you spit obscurities in my ear than stroke my hand and lie through your eyes. Fight for me but let me fight for me too. Don’t hurt me. Don’t walk on eggshells around me. Why can’t you just love me in every way I need and don’t need, and haven’t you learned by now that nothing is as it seems, and everything is doomed to fail and there is nothing left to fight for, and I’m so tired. I’m so tired of being tired. I’m so tired of fighting. I’m so tired of not fighting. I need sleep. The voices will go away tomorrow, and the sunshine will hold truth once again. The nighttime is the hardest when no one is around to fight. The quiet teases my self-worth and challenges my devotion. Tomorrow. Say everything I need to hear tomorrow. Not tonight, because then tomorrow won’t be too late.

Author's Note

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