Written As It Came To Me
Nobody is coming.
It's been a long time.
I'm eighteen, now.
Eighteen years old.
An "adult", people may say, decided by... Who even knows.
And my life is as it is.
It's not great, not even good.
Getting through each day is a struggle.
A struggle that doesn't stop because I keep... Waking up the next day, you know?
And I went a little nuts and decided that I would reach out.
The results of my attempt?
My father made me cry two days ago and I still haven't forgotten how much that hour long conversation hurt.
My mother suggested the needful like God, friends... Both parents repeat the same things like broken records, things that will no doubt "fix" me.
But I have tried those things before and I simply can't, anymore.
My sister told me to be happy because my sadness makes her feel sad... And I don't want to bother her, anymore, because we are twins and we've both been sad a long time in our own ways.
The person I care about a lot that I thought cared for me too, well, they not only forgot my birthday but they haven't spoken to me in almost a week.
I think I'm alone, you know?
I think this is it.
I think that's how things were meant to be.
Maybe it'll change.
Maybe someone will care for me like I deserve to be cared for, some day.
I wish I believed that but until that hypothetical morning, here I lie.
Struggling to get out of bed, no hygiene, barely speaking to anyone, apathetic to life, dead inside, a stormy rain cloud settled above my head that no one but me seems to see or understand.
Here I am, listening to music, writing things that make me smile, talking to the sky like an old friend, waving at birds, smiling at clouds
When I am happy... I am very happy.
But the lows crash right in once that moment has ended.
And I can't keep up the joy juice in me, it's too hard and I am much too tired.
So here's the best I can do.
A promise to myself.
That I will keep going and going until somehow, maybe a decade from now, maybe more, maybe never, I feel good.
I feel content.
Until the day comes where I wake up and feel happy to be alive.
What have I got to lose, right?
Lost my sanity years ago so screw it, here's to another possible seven years of sadness and isolation.
Here's to the disconnection I feel with everyone and being proven right in my distance everytime I dare to reach for someone's hand.
Here's to me.
Here's to more.
Here's to the foolish hope some part of me still clings to that I may some day be happy.
May you be proven right and I wrong.