Hollow
You don't understand.
How can you understand what it feels like
To hurt and feel nothing all at once
So much so that all you can think about is how nice it would be
How easy it could be
To just end it all.
To be hollowed out, cored like an apple
And filled with the deepest hatred for yourself
And everyone else by extension.
To fantasise, romanticise your own demise day after day
In a million ways,
Thinking honestly and literally about how best to the fix the problem
Of yourself.
What's the best cure for life?
How best to stop breathing -
No mess, no fuss.
Other people suffer too but we all suffer differently,
Even with this same illness,
This ridiculous condition.
It's fruitless to ask why because no one can provide an answer;
They don't know why and neither do we.
Even when the root cause is gone,
Dead like the light behind my eyes,
The pain and emptiness lives on as a reminder that I am broken like promises,
Put back together so badly that the bits don't fit quite right
So there are pieces of me still missing,
Never to be retrieved.
I will never be whole again and I am resigned to that fact
So why carry on?
Why get out of bed every morning to face the days that I don't wanna see
To live a life I don't wanna live?
I'm just taking up space,
Sucking up oxygen better fitting someone who still has some zeal,
Who still has zest and spark and hope.
I'm so cold, so lost, so lonely
All the time.
I can't go on like this -
It's not good and it's not right and I'm not okay.
Have I ever been?
The light at the end of this marathon tunnel has been flickering for so long -
I don't know if I'll make it to the end
Before it goes out.
How can you understand what it feels like
To hurt and feel nothing all at once
So much so that all you can think about is how nice it would be
How easy it could be
To just end it all.
To be hollowed out, cored like an apple
And filled with the deepest hatred for yourself
And everyone else by extension.
To fantasise, romanticise your own demise day after day
In a million ways,
Thinking honestly and literally about how best to the fix the problem
Of yourself.
What's the best cure for life?
How best to stop breathing -
No mess, no fuss.
Other people suffer too but we all suffer differently,
Even with this same illness,
This ridiculous condition.
It's fruitless to ask why because no one can provide an answer;
They don't know why and neither do we.
Even when the root cause is gone,
Dead like the light behind my eyes,
The pain and emptiness lives on as a reminder that I am broken like promises,
Put back together so badly that the bits don't fit quite right
So there are pieces of me still missing,
Never to be retrieved.
I will never be whole again and I am resigned to that fact
So why carry on?
Why get out of bed every morning to face the days that I don't wanna see
To live a life I don't wanna live?
I'm just taking up space,
Sucking up oxygen better fitting someone who still has some zeal,
Who still has zest and spark and hope.
I'm so cold, so lost, so lonely
All the time.
I can't go on like this -
It's not good and it's not right and I'm not okay.
Have I ever been?
The light at the end of this marathon tunnel has been flickering for so long -
I don't know if I'll make it to the end
Before it goes out.
♠ ♠ ♠
Usually when I write I think very carefully about the imagery I use to convey the exact story and message that I'm aiming for. But when it comes to such a personal poem, that comes from the darkest places in the darkest of days, the words are just vomited onto the page in some accidental semblance of order. If I overthink it, it loses it's relevance to what I'm going through when I need to get the words out.; it stops being relatable, to me or to anyone. If you make it through this sadness of a poem I hope you don't see yourself in its words but if you do, at least remember that you are not alone.