Little Things

...

a single momentary lapse of memory in a noisy skull,
just bones, flesh and a shaky consciousness.
slipping awareness and slowly
swimming bloodshot eyes. you're the teenager, the
sleepy head that angrily paces the room. agitated and
stressed out - to the maximum. tightly
balled fists, ready to fight the oncoming storm.
'so long and good night. but before i go you should
know that if you carry on like this, you'll surely do yourself
damage.' 'what of it?' taunts the little voice within the
closed in, confined walls of the skull.
'it's too late.
you're too stressed. forget it.'
and then there's the shouting now, not taunting, 'for the love of god,
bite your tongue and SHUT UP!'
and again, from within. whispering, but maliciously forceful...
'you're desperate and pathetic.
stop crying, you idiot. you're being so ridiculous. no one wants
to hear your ridiculous whining. choke those words back down, they don't matter'
the violence that racks through your bones makes you
stressed and scared as hell, your eyes bloodshot and makes your
chest so painful that even breathing hurts.
unable to stand anything, at all. wanting it all to STOP.
it's not enough, screams the voice. that's another
sleepless night. another night lying awake, tormented and ridiculed
by a voice telling you you'll fail, you're shit. give up now before
it gets so much worse
scream at the top of your lungs, tear yourself apart, if the voice
inside hasn't already stripped you bare of confidence and
everything that once made you, you. it's nearly too late.
and the voice still spits hatred at you.
always.
selfish.