My soul keeps trying to find something that doesn’t exist.
Maybe it’s because of my shaky hands or my tired eyes, but either way I can never grasp it.
The night is cold but I don’t feel it anymore.
The icy edges that have formed in my bones have melted into my blood and remain their initial temperature.
Some people may call this poetry, but my heart is beating too fast to consider this anything else.
My head is a battlefield and there are too many wars being fought on it.
When I look at the options, death seems the easiest.
It’s like a glowing exit sign that intrigues me to go through the door, but not beautiful enough to make me leave the room.
Everything around me is buzzing so quickly and I need to make it stop so I can think.
I don’t know where I need to go or who I need to be, but everything is happening too fast for me to stop it.
Mental illness is such a weird thing, because the voices in your head constantly tell you that the sadness you feel deep in your bones is normal.
And you shouldn’t speak up either because everyone will think that you’re just seeking attention.
Sometimes I wish that I could stop being this way, but then I remember that without it, I wouldn’t be me.
I’ve been dealing with this for as long as I can remember and it’s become a part of my personality.
I can’t distinguish the difference between a panic attack and normalcy anymore.
I can never focus on anything for too long.
Like right now, I know I need to stay on the topic of how my mental illness is ruining my life, but my mood changed and now I have an urge to tell you about how interesting humans are.
Human beings are constantly regenerating cells within their bodies.
Something that was once an open wound can become normal skin again within days.
I mean, we’re atoms vibrating at such a quick speed, for crying out loud.
We’re so full of life.
I don’t know about you, but there’s a universe exploding inside of me.
Maybe that’s why people get so sad.
We’re too busy trying to focus the energy we have building inside of us, that we forget what’s going on around us and time passes like sand through my hands.
Humans invest too much time trying to make something their own.
Maybe it’s because we’re one of the smartest mammals on the planet that we feel entitled to fill up a certain space.
And even then we want more.
If something isn’t somewhat beneficial to us, we leave it.
And now I wanna change the subject again because I got too serious too fast.
My anxiety is telling me to stop but I must keep going because apparently keeping all this in is bad for you.
The crazy thing is a majority of you will listen to me, and some of you may even compliment me later.
But you’ll forget about this poem when you go home and tuck yourself into your own problems.
Now I’m not saying that this poem is more significant than what goes through your life, because it’s not.
This is actually just me bumbling like a fool.
What I’m trying to say is that people forget everything around them when it comes to sadness.
All the emotions that are considered bad are the ones we get too involved with.
We sometimes destroy ourselves to make that one someone happy.
Because it makes us happy.
Because we’d rather make ourselves sad if it means they could be happy.
I don’t know why we’re like this, but it just happens.
The world isn’t meant for wallflowers like me.
It’s meant for people who do.
For people who act.
Maybe that’s why I never feel like I belong anywhere.
Maybe that’s why we pull ourselves away from the people we love because we feel as if they look at us as an outsider.
Because maybe that’s what we are.
But then again, these are just the surface of my thoughts.
And so tonight you’ll go home and forget them and think about the next time you’ll fall in love, or the next meal you’ll have, or a homework assignment, or about the next time you’ll kiss someone, or just sleep.
And I don’t blame you.
It’s just easier that way.