i will admit you had me fooled
at some point in time,
for about one second, maybe two, but no longer than that i promise you.
i hope you can admit to yourself
that right now,
you are no better than anyone else
and i’m sitting here as i laugh and admit
you never will be significant.
so perhaps that is why i take pleasure in
glancing in your direction
for only one second,
cause you’re not worth two,
and feel nothing but pity towards you.
always so sad and never quite knowing why.
i’d like very much to have a good friend or two and some small things packed and to just venture off into the world and travel and sleep under the stars and appreciate nature and how beautiful it is and escape from this stupid, stupid society for just a bit to breathe
and maybe let go of the reasons as to why i am always
so
damn
sad
and
not caring to know why.
I am broken
and I really don’t know why.
If I had to sum it up,
when asked why tears are pooling in my eyes,
I would answer
“Everything,”
but even that would not be enough.
I am broken
and I need fixing
and I really don’t know how
to get to a better place.
If I had to sum it up,
I would tell you:
“I am lost,”
and you would not understand,
as I would be standing right before you
in plain sight.
I would like to have someone,
anyone, really,
sit beside me
as I try to figure out
all the ways I can become whole
again.
And we would sit across from each other,
not saying anything at all.
But they would clearly read
the death in my eyes,
as I sit across from them,
staring.
And tears would sting my eyes,
and without saying a word,
my head would be placed in their lap,
with their fingers running through my hair
over and over
and over again.
Tears swimming down my cheeks,
their fingers swimming through my hair,
we would sit in our slice of silence,
waiting
until my breathing,
the only noise snaking through the room,
slowed down,
and down,
and down
to nothing.
And the next morning,
I would still be broken,
as I always am.
And the next morning,
we would wake up,
stretch, wander around lazily for food,
change into a fresh set of clothes
and find ourselves in the front seats of my car,
hoping that this
will be enough.
And you might ask where we are going,
and if I had to sum it up,
I think my silence
would suffice.
And we’d drive and drive
and drive,
gliding past people,
who, maybe, are broken, too.
The familiar town would fade
into the busy highway,
until the busy highway,
would fade into the empty highway.
We would not look for signs
or keep track of our distance.
The windows would be cracked open slightly,
as the wind, too, attempts
to fill me in a way
so that I am no longer broken.
And we’d talk a little
about silly things,
things that are probably
what made me so damn empty
in the first place.
And when our words died down,
the music would go up,
and just as effortlessly as my tears fell,
songs would float out of our mouths,
the words and the singing somehow
making me a little less broken.
Our adventure
of endless driving
would not end until the worry of missing home,
settled in our tummies.
And we’d pull off at the next exit,
climb out of the car,
and examine the town that we’d made it to,
only to climb back in the car,
and get back on the highway,
this time,
heading in the direction of home.
And we’d sing some more,
until my eyelids got heavy,
so that just they alone were singing,
lulling me to sleep.
This time, attention would have to be paid to signs,
because even though the car is moving fast,
we slowly have to find our way
back home.
And once we were there,
we wouldn’t say much.
They had hoped,
silently,
the whole way back,
that I would not be as broken
as I was
the day before.
And if you asked me,
if I were grateful for not being
alone
whilst being so broken,
I think my silence,
would best sum that up.
Maybe you do not understand
what it is like
to be broken,
so beaten down to the core,
that you cannot even form the word,
“Help.”
You probably haven’t ever
contemplated which will best suit your tears,
your mood: the shower
or the bed?,
not moving an inch,
once you sink into that place.
And when you asked me why,
why would I want someone there for me,
who won’t even ask about why
I am so broken?
And maybe, the look in my eyes,
would tell you that
sometimes,
you just need a place to rest your head,
and sometimes,
running away
is the best answer,
because you only then find the solution to your problem
when you make your way home.
This is a process
that neither of us
understand.
I am broken,
broken,
broken,
and still waiting
to be fixed.
Just saw a post that read ‘What if I didn’t meet you on that day?’
And instantly I thought, “Then I’d have met you on another day.”
and perhaps it is a little mind blowing that people are living their lives at this very moment, all while you have been living yours. that before you were here, people loved and cried and learned and lived. i’ve never stopped to think that when i was five years old, the people i would meet ten years later, were five, too. and that they existed before i had ever even imagined meeting anyone like them. people are living the most intricate of lives, while their existence has never even crossed my path.
it is lovely to know that somewhere on this vast planet, two soul mates have just found each other. and it is frightening to think that a parent just lost a daughter. people turn their lives around everyday and we don’t even know it.
to think that the strangers i sit next to at red lights will go places i have never seen, never been, never will visit, and live lives and touch faces and feel every emotion on the damn spectrum is absolutely compelling in itself.
so i thought that was weird.
