Can I breathe in for more than 3 seconds without conclusions jumping down my throat?
I would rather not choke on the doubts that litter the air around me,
Because maybe they’re not true, but how would I really know?
Nothing ever shuts up long enough for me to hear.
Being alone is my worst nightmare because then every fragment of negativity latches on and sucks away all the color that makes life beautiful.
I’m sorry, I talk way too much about color,
Or I talk too much in general.
Hell isn’t hot, but extremely cold so I itch and burn without anyone saying, “are you okay?”
I guess I am okay. I have to be right?
If no one thinks or cares enough to ask, then I must be fine.
There is no way in that frozen hell that I would allude that I am dying inside.
I am trapped in hatred and malcontent but I can still smile so I must be over it.
Laughter isn’t a coverup, it’s just true, or at least that’s what we’re taught.
Sad people can’t be happy.
Especially not when every voice in the world, that’s in my head, is telling me how unwanted, disgusting, foul, wretched, worthless, useless, bitchy, whiny, and down-right evil I am.
My smile erases all of that.
There’s always a reason to be sad.
Sad is never a good enough answer, there has to be a reason why I don’t want to get out of bed, or want to cut off each piece of my skin individually.
I’m already a deconstructed puzzle.
I am sad because I let the wall crumble just long enough for the demons to crawl through the cracks and latch onto my heart.
Sad people laugh.
Sad people cry.
Sad people smile.
Sad people get angry.
Sad people do what sad people need to do to survive.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to over analyze and conclusions to jump to.