i've yet to come to terms with who i am, with thoughts i had long forgotten or had hidden so far deep within my tortured mind that when they started to resurface, i was convinced that they were not my own, that, in fact, they were fabricated to sabotage me by making me feel fragile and artificial, depriving me of all my newfound hope.
that is, if i truly believed i knew who i was already.
but as it so happen to be, my judgement is clouded, clarity is lost. before i had realized it, i had become my own worst enemy. i had become someone i feared, someone i didn't recognize; a faceless man.
some days i don't even recognize the world around me. i can slam my fist into a wall and the pain barely registers inside my head, i can interact with passerby's, perform my duties as needed, but i'm seperated from them. i can drink a bottle a day and yet here i sit, sober and detached. i can see these blue eyes of mine, the scars on my body, feel the way my heart beats abnormally inside its cage, yet i'm disconnected from it all. like i'm interacting with the world around me through paperthin stained glass.
other days i feel too deeply, as if the absense of prior emotions had suddenly rushed back. the world would be intensified and illuminating, bright and colorful. and even if the world would be alive, i know i'm not, 'cause i realized i am living more inside my own shattered mind than anywhere else.
i, a whited sepulchre, am inherently stuck inside my pathetically assembled slice of hell.
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𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐀
Poetryrigor samsa: n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time-and will keep growing back again and again, until you develop a more so...
