6: Swollen, prickled, red. You can’t say I haven’t tried. This has been holding itself up for too long; the heavy vacancy that weighs your heart, that shuts close your lips, that loops itself in your head. You’re screaming but no sound reaches your lips and you smile pleasantly as your friends leave you when all you want to do is hold them close and cry. But it doesn’t matter. Everyone has their own worlds to attend to. You don’t matter that much to them. It doesn’t matter.
What is scary is how easily you fall back into this again. 6. Press in deeper, because everything else about you are superficial bits that are perpetually useless and uninteresting. Press in deeper, because the lines that you draw on your thighs match the blanks that you draw over and over again in your life. Press in deeper, because there is nothing else you can do in with the sickening thudding in your heart and the tears that fill in your eyes. Press in deeper, because you are falling back into this again. 6: Swollen, prickled, red. Dipped in sickness.
This is your personal treat.
(Have you forgotten your inability to live a non-fucked up life?)