“I can’t stop shaking, and I can’t change. I’m setting myself up with every chance at success, knowing full well I’m going to fuck it up.”

I’m not doing anything that should warrant such an extremely negative reaction from myself. I’m eating a sandwich while I finish up some work, but that last bite…it’s hard to explain, but that bite made me feel so hollow, that it was all I could do to keep myself from crying. I took that bite, and immediately dropped the sandwich and just started shaking. I couldn’t chew, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t do a damn thing. I felt so small, yet so bloated. I wanted to disappear, but wanted someone to notice me, to tell me I’d be okay. I wanted somebody to remind me that eating a sandwich is a normal thing, and it shouldn’t cause a mental breakdown. But everything causes a mental breakdown now…I haven’t gone a single day without breaking…and I’m tired…

My body is tired. My back is screaming at me to get up and do something, even if that something is jumping off a bridge. My hands and face and mouth are all dried up, unsightly, scaly things. I’m sure my reflection is haunting, or at least a consistent visitor to every sort of nightmare the human mind can concoct, but I wouldn’t know for sure, because I avoid mirrors and glass windows and still bodies of water, knowing that if I saw whatever it is I have become, I’d do anything I could to destroy that monster…I’m so tired of being the monster…for once, I wish I could just be the hero.

I’d valiantly strike any mirror with my fist and enjoy watching a kaleidoscope of my own blood run across the now serrated surface.

I’d bravely shatter any glass windows, gathering the broken pieces into a nice, sharp pile, and roll around in that bed of crystal needles in a stupid, childish attempt to cut my way through this terribly uncomfortable skin.

And I’d heroically smother any image presented by a calm waters surface, forcing it under in a wave of self-righteous rage, inflated fear, and layer upon layer of bravado to mask my doubts…I’d drowned anything shown in that waters reflection, even if it means spending the rest of my forever at the bottom of an empty Sea.

I’m not doing anything that should warrant how much I hate myself, but I’ve come to view my very existence as a crime, a blight on society. I am a monster, and the only acceptable kind of monster is a dead monster. I don’t want to be a monster, and I wish I could know what it’s like to be the hero, so really I’m just killing two birds with one stone, but in this case, those birds are just me and my reflection. I just have to take that stone, grind out a nice, sharp edge, slide that makeshift dagger across my throat, and watch as that monster in the mirror gets exactly what it deserves…and I can go out with a smile in my heart, knowing I finally did something good for the world; I finally became a hero…

“Pain is unavoidable, and sooner or later everyone reaches a breaking point. It’s okay that you’re broken, because being broken means you can be fixed.”

I am drawn to you,

Like starlight to black nights,

Or else the rough sea

To a sailors dreams.

If I am to continue,

My darling, I do so

From your spark

It has ignited the tinder,

Shaved from my chest,

Giving rise to a heat,

A roaring light.

You’ve gifted me the Sun,

And with it a simple hope,

That even though I am alone

I can find my own way home.

Your back in Ohio, and I’m backed into another corner.

Will things really be okay, because it feels like we’re breaking

And just leaving things alone means physics will take hold;

An object in motion will stay in motion, so doing nothing is something;

It means accepting that falling apart is as normal for us as breathing.

 

But I’m not feeling comfortable in this Colorado air,

Open spaces just leave us with more places to scream without an audience

And all of this snow is wasted on unbalanced folk such as we;

I’m not a special snowflake and you can’t stand the shakes.

 

We could move back to Ohio, rediscover the cities we hate

Perhaps all of the street signs have been replaced

And everyone has up and moved, so nothing is the same

Well, if we came back, new names and neighbors wouldn’t mean a thing.

 

So where do we go from here, our starting line a broken heart?

I think conventional wisdom would be to break this off,

Empty our minds of the good times and focus solely on the terrible,

Rip that Band-Aid off and move right into the rebound.

 

Surely forgetting we were ever a thing would be sad,

But if we are sad now, does it matter if we cut a bit more?

It all ends, so end it as it began;

Burning ourselves dry, leaving nothing, leaving nothing.

 

And so you left me nothing, and I left myself nothing.

And so I am nothing, because you were my everything.

And so you are in Ohio, and I am nowhere at all.

And so you have forgotten, and I am forgetting how to breathe.