How clearly one can see with their eyes closed.
You ask “What’s wrong?”
And that’s what it is, I’ve been trying to figure it out for so long.
There is nothing the matter, there is nothing at all.
I thought I was above this, but even the highest skyscrapers will someday fall.
You apologize but we both know it’s not you. It’s my crumbling idea of staying just two.
So I’ll sit here and wait with my eyes closed shut, because I’ve never felt more open.
It’s a disease of its own. Rich kids creating their own problems, longing for love that is not sold in Urban Outfitters. Empty and alone, believing everyone is judging them, watching them, they wait for approval. Suicidal thoughts formed from the unimportance of their existence. When you have nothing to believe in, nothing to make you fight for your life, you’re already dead.
It’s tight. And it’s constricting. But it feels good. There’s a power.
Why is everything so distant?
That’s how it is here. A suffocating freedom.
There is a certain security that comes with living with the people who have known you your whole life. When you are unloved, they provide warm arms to wrap yourself in. When you are lost, they remind you who you are and what you believe in. But there comes a point in your life when this security is restricting. When you are trying to change or discover who you are, the you that they expect you to be becomes overbearing and confines the freedom you need to grow. I can honestly say that I am ready to go.
Our lives are so very fast and everything we need, demands to be right now
But love is what we truly want,
And love is very slow, indeed
That’s how it feels.
Can’t imagine how it feels for those who are even less.
They slip through the little holes of the strainer. They’re not supposed to, the holes are supposed to be small enough to not let them. But sometimes they slip away and all you can do is wonder if maybe they were never meant to stay.
That’s all I get now.
Just like everyone else.
And I guess that’s what hurts the most.
The answers never seem so clear.
I close my eyes.
The hallways bend and split off and lead into more hallways and different doors. I can’t figure out which one. It’s all there, I just need to find it. There’s no guide you tell me. No one else can map the design I created.
I’m staring at you. I wave.
But you keep walking
Flowing the way you do.
Your eyes look drained and your forehead depressed.
I try to smile, maybe you’ll smile too
But there’s so many papers, too many things to do.
I start to sink into the mess, the papers eat me up. I thrash my hands and scream for help, but it’s a sound you’ve learned to forget.
As I am pulled deeper I can’t help but to wonder if you’ll hear my silence.
