i am waiting.
i wait for the day that my tired thoughts sort themselves into something coherent.
i wait for the day that i can convince myself that i have a life worth living.
i wait for the day that i write something that changes lives, and saves people, and is...
revolutionary.
it's on the tip of my tongue.
like saliva dripping onto my unclean teeth,
like droopy eyelids fighting to stay open,
like a window in my heart, begging to be pushed ajar,
i will wait for it.
i will stay alive to wait for it.
some days, i want to rip myself apart.
i want to search around in my stomach and feel the pit of sadness that has made its home there.
i want to reach into my throat and rip out the lump that is permanently stitched onto the back of my tongue.
i want to fall onto a mattress and just go cold,
and limp,
and wait for someone to find me,
after my decomposing skin has already begun to stick to the sheets.
but i am alive right now.
even though every intake of air burns my lungs,
i am still breathing.
even though every blink is a trap set in place to make me fall asleep forever,
i won't be tricked.
and even though every wound in my flesh refuses to heal properly,
i have prevented them from getting infected.
i like it better when it's cold.
the frigid air biting at my skin is a good reminder that i am surviving.
and for now,
that is enough.
