This thing I'm writing right now is me, as a person. I want you to know how it feels...
Most of the time, I feel emotion, but there are those moments where I literally feel empty. Where I can't feel the beat of my heart coursing through my body. Or the slight movement your body makes when you think you're completely still. Sometimes, I don't even blink. I just stare. At my wall, a drawing, a poster, a letter, a poem, my blanket, pillow, feet, legs, end table, and most importantly
time.
I think of all the things I want to do in my life, and I slowly spiral out of control of that thought and my head thinks of all the things I cannot do, all that I have no control over. I can't even catch myself either like my brain just takes over my entire body. I don't have the urge to write, to speak, to listen, to move, to turn my light off, to sleep,
to feel.
I don't know why. And I hate it. Why does it have to consume me? Why can't I just build a wall and move around it? I don't want for people to think I'm weak. I want to be independent like how I was when I was a kid. No one had to worry if I'd wake up the next morning, or if I'd be at school that day. They didn't have to call my parents asking if I'm alright. They wouldn't have to lock up all the meds and knives and guns. Everyone who's in my life, they have no idea how grateful I am that they're here. I know that some of them feel the same way I do, wanting to die not for attention, but to simply be gone for themselves, and maybe others. Thinking if they weren't here, people's lives would be better. Or, that we simply wouldn't have to live anymore, or feel.
Or try really. It's hard. I know this coming from a middle-class white girl sounds ridiculous and ungrateful, but for me, this is the hardest my life has ever been. So I stare and don't feel. That's the easiest way, other than dying.
