I can’t. I don’t know. I tried. I am trying. I thought. I thought it’d be all good. But no. I am falling again. I swear I can feel myself slipping away and s l o w l y d i s s a p e a r i n g.
I have to write this because I feel as if the truth has been trying to choke me until I can’t breath. Until I stop. I may sound dramatic but Jesus, I am anxious. My insides are so tight, when I walk through the school hallways, my feet punch each other and I forget how to walk. I am depressed. I am so so sorry but it is so true. I see the kids laughing playing ball. I want that. I want to play ball with them and laugh like that and run and run until my face reddens and I lose my breath because I am having fun. I noticed that I am pushing people a w a y. People ask me if I’m alright, “I am fine”. I don’t want it to be like this but the weight of my body is holding me down and forcing me to sit and block everything around me. The only sound I allow myself to hear is the beat of the drums and soft playing of the guitar from my favorite song. I don’t want it to be like this. I swear I thought everything was good. I felt good. Last week, I broke down in my Art class, unable to breath. Went to the bathroom and cried and wondered why am I crying. Mr. Turner knows why. I want to talk to him because I don’t want to talk but when I talk to him he knows and he doesn’t rush me. He doesn’t pity me. He just waits and listens. He’s not here today. I can’t talk to Sam because I can’t trust him with this. Because he doesn’t trust me, I cannot trust him completely. I remember when I was home-schooled last year and I want to go back to sitting in my room and not feeling the sun burning my shoulders. It feels like 80 degrees outside and I am wearing a jacket. Somehow it is cold for me. I want to go back at not feeling everyone with their eyes on me. Or that’s what I think. I don’t want to feel sick on my stomach because I made a mistake in class and I have to raise my hand to ask for directions but I don’t want to because people stare at you and their eyes burn me. I don’t want to feel like I can’t dress how I want to. I have my hair in two tiny ponytails because I wanted to prove myself I don’t care what people think about it. My mouth hurts because I am serious and I don’t want to smile because they annoy me and I am not confident at all. Ugh. Sam why did you get high again and not tell me? Who are you? Because now you look like every other guy in the world. Influenced. I don’t want that for you. But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me and I love you but I didn’t know if I should be mad about it or okay because you told me 3 weeks later. Look, I want you to tell me. Not anymore. I don’t want to know. I don’t want you to know that I cried and cried last night and I was begging God to save you and me and everyone who is feeling this way because it’s not a good feeling. I was crying because I was crying again. Because I am letting myself care too much again. Because I am leaving. Alone. And now, I want that. I am fine with that.
Winsome by The Moth & The Flame