It’s like a slow, steady, unwinding piece of yarn
that tangles once set down, forming a knot.
It makes me feel sick, like I cannot escape.
Maybe I’ve caved and relapsed,
or maybe I’ve fallen and hit the pavement.
A cry or two here and there fills the air silently,
lasting at least two hours each.

That voice in my head I spent so long trying to ignore
begins to surface, using a louder and much thicker voice
as it rises through the floor of the staircase
I’ve been slowly climbing.
And it’s just there:
Yelling and clawing and taunting at me.
Georgie’s post is kind of coincidental, too.
It’s like I was supposed to stumble across it today
and think of it after such an occurrence today.

I’m struggling to stay in the present again.
It’s so difficult to do so when the constant voice
is filling the air near my eardrum,
residing on my earlobe until I finally give in.
It feels so easy to give in and give up
and just stumble back down to the bottom.

A deep, severe urge to rip the skin on my upper thigh
brushes across my mind and corrupts my progress.
A strong lust to sever my self from life itself
sweeps in on a broomstick and waves itself around like a new, shiny gadget.
It’s so tempting. I start crying again.
Because I know I don’t want to. And
crying hurts more physically these days than it used to,
before the dental surgery.

I put others first, and I wind up in this very lifestyle.
I put myself first, and I wind up in this very lifestyle.
Hurt.
I’m still hurt either way, and it feels so much like I’ll never escape.
And perhaps that’s why I wish to run away
to a place where no one knows my name,
to a place where I don’t have to play the game.

Walls go up, and I’m seen as ‘hard to get’,
seen as if I don’t care.
Walls go down, and I’m too trusting.
Because that’s me — naturally trusting everyone.
Even though they leave.
Even though they say hurtful things.
Even though they break me.
Even though they don’t treat me the same.

And the pain continues to the point
that I start to feel a need to create pain to keep the feeling going —
to make it a steady pace, to make it become routine —
similar to another’s coffee addiction.
And if I speak my feelings, I’m “victimizing” myself.
And I can’t win.
And then I’m just falling down as it bottles up,
in a spiral of constant harm
and everything I was a victim of before I finally started having help build myself up.

I finally reach a point where I feel somewhat happy and okay with myself,
then I’m broken — shattered — and thrown away.
How is it so easy for people to just throw each other away?
To just forget and call it a day?
To berate and exclaim all the flaws like we’re all in-laws?
To then just feel so okay and move on
and expect the other to accept that they’re the problem and change?

I just want to be enough.
I want to be enough for me, for you.
I want to be adequate in whatever it is that I do.
As a whole.
Just me,
even if I’m a screw up or not what someone would like.

I wasn’t going to write up any posts, but I’ve needed an escape lately.