Untitled Part 2

I’m telling you I’m a wreck.
The world has its hands around my neck.
I’m gasping for breath and my heart is pounding!
In my chest I can feel the weight crushing my rib cage,
I am becoming dust.

Falling through the cracks and slipping through fingers until I am one with the forgotten spaces between your floorboards.

My therapist says I should go outside, to be with friends.
To breathe in slow and take it one step at a time.

Because time heals all wounds.

Only I’ve pushed everyone away to the point where I can no longer see the difference between who is a friend and who is a foe.
I cannot breathe because I’m on the in-between space of what is make believe and what is reality.

One day maybe I will understand why people build a fortress of solitude.
They need to be alone and collect their thoughts; saving memories in their pockets. Memories becoming nothing but chump change in the jars on the end tables in the corner of their minds.

How can I breathe and take the time to gather my thoughts like a bouquet of flowers and bring something beautiful back from my misery?

I can hardly stand myself when I’m alone. I need a distraction in the form of interaction or maybe an attraction where I can fall so fast that I cannot catch my breath.

I’ve never learned the coping skills I need to bring myself down so I’m constantly flying between the walls of my mind, seeing how fast I can get from one end to the other and break a record.