I'll die when I'm 35, and I'm dealing with this insidious grief inside. Insidious because there's something so good about being young with you. I'm gazing down a long certainty and through the drowning phases of being blind to life, when I finally can look at the sky without it being my resting place, I feel so good about being young. Winning that feeling of wind caught up in my throat and my head swung back with a laugh, wanderlust in the same breadth of grief. I catch that feeling, it a bout, more than my suicidal ideation. The truth is, the truth will always be, I want to live. But even when I'm not dying, loneliness is weaponized. And I can only force myself to appreciate so many times through what should be natural. Then I look at the sky and I hope. I know that this way of hoping isn't right.
for the person who has loved me the most in this life, it was only saved through not being compared to the potential of those who could love me the most because even if I don't die at 35, I know life is so much better without me. at my core, I am loneliness, but when I'm with you it is stolen and used against me. me against myself and you are the winner either way. when I'm stupidly evil, I imagine a world without me and your still capability to smile. and I know everything will be okay.
it's okay to want to live but I never had to prove that point to anyone and so it's an obnoxious cry to no one. I'll die young. and I guess, I want to tell you, I want to live even when it's too late.
and I guess, I wanted to want that, I wanted you to accept what I want, not what you wanted for me. and it's stupid because it's the same thing. but I have a teenager's mouth and my imaginary death at 35 is just a passing thing.
when I'm lying on my bathroom floor, I can't think of anyone who has loved me enough to not be tired and loneliness takes the opportunity to attack me in my poor health.
a/n...
Mourning myself, for the second I thought I was dying, for the possibility that I can die. I hope it is a teenagers mouth. And not a dedication to 35. That I mourn myself all alone, and that I would always be the first to mourn myself. It's funny. It's pathetic. Even when I remove myself from it.
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PoetryTW' trauma dumping read this in an accent, thank you. Yes, all thoughts are authentic but never original. This kills me, so I search. It would kill me less if all authenticity didn't claim healing is a forgetting through the passage of time. That t...
