I lay in my bed, feeling the world pressing deeply into my chest.
I still breathe, although I weep.
I ask myself over again, if it's me.
If I'm the worst parts of my own misery.
The pressure I feel, grows larger every night
As I let myself remind myself that maybe if I was better, maybe things wouldn't be so wrong.
Because
I see my family, torn apart by their own misguided rage.
I see my friends, seeing me only though what I give and what they take.
I see the things that I so desperately wish to change.
All of it, are unreachable moments. Frozen.
Things I so deeply wish were different.
Sometimes I feel like I am the shadow.
The darkness that plagues all that is good.
Hidden deep, buried within the weakest parts of my mind.
The ever growing pressure, builds the unmoving weight. I can't do anything if I can't move.
Stuck in a loop.
Why is it fine for everyone else to have problems, but when I do. I'm the demon.
The isolation of that realization is choking me.
The friends I could turn too, I don't feel like I can.
The family I trust, just doesn't understand.
When you're left with nothing, where exactly do You stand...
The shadow looms over me, gripping me by the throat.
I don't want it to let go.
