It’s ridiculous, I’m falling apart. I’m watching pieces of me fall to the ground. They look like a trail of crumbs, at first they were insignificant, I didn’t think they mattered. But now I’m missing enough for me to notice. Is this the life I have chosen to tread along? Have I given up and gotten lost on what should be myself discovery?
I was hoping to find my invisibility cloak; I was wishing to bury myself within my bed every night. Shed my insecurities and maybe find those lost pieces wrapped up in dreams placed under my pillow. Maybe I’ll finally learn to face my fears but not telling myself they don’t exist. I’ll find a place between reality and fantasy that accommodates my needs. I’ll be perfect in my own perception, learn to paint with water colour so my pens fluidity extends to portraits and not just words I piece together.
I am not afraid of breaking, of physical pain, hurting and tears. I’ve got to learn how to keep in check some days I get lost in dreams, these are days when i’m ashamed of my thoughts, when i judge people not to make myself feel better but cause in my opinion its true, and i tell myself its okay cause i never uttered a single word. Because they didnt hear me, days when i look in the mirror and and only see the marks that have faded, when i wish they would still exist to distract people from lying eyes and night mares.
I’m falling to pieces…