i awoke this morning with sad eyes, blinking the tears out between my lashes, blurring my clock into focus.
three o'olock. three pm. three o'clock. three o'clock. three o'colock.
another day. i am terrified to live another day. i curled around myself, balled like a fetus, desperately trying to clutch all of myself to me and disappear...
not an easy feat, i assure you...
and i cried.
late for everything today, no surprise... when you go out into the world and cannot hide your sadness, there is a discomfort...
no one wants to look at you, they catch your eyes, those sad, fucking eyes, and the back away...
they ask you how you are, and you fail to lie and they cant handle it. they ask you how you are, but they dont care. they dont want the truth. they want a "good", a "fine"... they want one happy made up word to reassure them the world is in order, and then they can go on their way...
so many tears today...
even now....
i cannot read my goddamned screen.
i called my dad today... i miss his voice... kissing skinned knees and piggy back rides... i miss being small and everyone else was big and it was okay because they took care of you....
of me.
everyone was bigger than me and it was okay because i was taken care of...
and my voice caught in my throat and i was afraid...
i need help. help like a little girl, like im a fucking infant and i cannot walk...
i need help.
every picture i see of me reminds me that my eyes are filled with tears...
and i am weak.
three o'olock. three pm. three o'clock. three o'clock. three o'colock.
another day. i am terrified to live another day. i curled around myself, balled like a fetus, desperately trying to clutch all of myself to me and disappear...
not an easy feat, i assure you...
and i cried.
late for everything today, no surprise... when you go out into the world and cannot hide your sadness, there is a discomfort...
no one wants to look at you, they catch your eyes, those sad, fucking eyes, and the back away...
they ask you how you are, and you fail to lie and they cant handle it. they ask you how you are, but they dont care. they dont want the truth. they want a "good", a "fine"... they want one happy made up word to reassure them the world is in order, and then they can go on their way...
so many tears today...
even now....
i cannot read my goddamned screen.
i called my dad today... i miss his voice... kissing skinned knees and piggy back rides... i miss being small and everyone else was big and it was okay because they took care of you....
of me.
everyone was bigger than me and it was okay because i was taken care of...
and my voice caught in my throat and i was afraid...
i need help. help like a little girl, like im a fucking infant and i cannot walk...
i need help.
every picture i see of me reminds me that my eyes are filled with tears...
and i am weak.
VIEW 25 of 68 COMMENTS
monomer:
You have put ********* into words. Thank you for making me *feel*. I had forgotten how that was. Keep breathing, functioning.
adele:
I've felt exactly this way before and I couldn't have put into any better words than you did. I'm enjoying reading your entries, I like how you write =)