Messed up

Broken glass in your hand, but you squeeze it harder. You watch the blood pouring over your hand, arm, until it touches the ground. You want to feel something, but you can’t. Some like to imagine…but any thrill will do, just to make you feel something.

You wait for the first cringe of morning to get away from the darkness, but what will you do when the darkness in your heart doesn’t fade away? You are always looking for the high, for losing your senses with anything and anyone as long as you run from yourself. You wonder if there is a right way for all of this but you soon realise that good or right are just a distraction to escape the burden of life.

You look at him as he is lying on the floor, gone, he has no reaction to your blood and you start to pray for him. It’s funny how easy it is for you to pray for others instead of yourself. You got used to loving strangers, to have a blast each time, even though you spiral through life and most of the time you’re just cold inside.

People say there’s something magical about you, something invigorating that gives them hope sin is good. You open your hands to whomever calls you ‘honey’ or ‘dear’ and you give them the sweet taste of escape with no rolling eyes or fear.

A tear gets loose from your eye and hits your knee. It abruptly awakens you. ‘I feel, I felt it!’, you say enthusiastically because you didn’t even notice that you were now sitting in an empty room, on a cold chair.

Everything is so cold and you gently cover your shoulders hoping your warm embrace will light up your insentient heart.  It’s amazing how you want to be alone but surround yourself with as many people as possible to intensify your solitude.

In a room full of people, you feel the emptiest. You close your eyes. You blink. You get naked and pour yourself something to drink looking frenetically for what used to be… .