Immortality is Immaterial Without Happiness
I trusted me too.
I am sorry I failed.
I thought I could do it this time.
I should have known better.
I was going to repeat my never-ending cycle once again.
A never-ending cycle filled with accidental lies and broken promises.
Every time I talk, it could be a lie.
My mind changes so fast,
Fast as the speed of light.
I can change, I am sure of it.
My perspective on life is never the same.
Every morning is different, every evening is the same.
I’m happy, I’m sad, I end up just plain confused.
How do I fix me? I think I am broken.
I hurt everything I touch, including myself.
Long sleeves to hide the scars, old and new.
Tears and tears, not knowing why I’m even crying.
Confusion turns to anger, and anger takes over.
Overwhelmed with emotion, it turns to depression.
An endless supply of pain becomes my only emotion.
I can’t stop it; I don’t know why I’m sad.
How do I fix me? I think I am broken.
I want to make the world proud.
I want to hear the words.
What does it take for you to be proud of me?
I can glue myself together, but the cracks remain always.
Perfectly visible to everybody, yet they won’t say a thing.
People only care if you’re bleeding.
I cannot even look in the mirror, I do not recognize who I see.
Put a poster over it, something with a smile.
Something that can never cry, something unbreakable.
But being unbreakable is not possible, for immortality is immaterial if there is no happiness.
I cannot even look at myself.
How do I fix me? I think I am broken.
I told you I would do better this time.
That was seven times ago.
You are still here, that must be love, right?
That must be patience.
That must be hard.
You must be traumatized.
Everyone else already left me,
No surprise there, I would leave me too.
I think I push people away, so they don’t hurt me,
But in the end, all I do is hurt them instead.
It is not my decision whether or not they keep me, it is their life, their happiness, their choice.
That doesn’t change the fact that I’m scared.
I’m scared for you and I’m scared for me.
My brain, my mind, my soul, they are all confused and don’t know what to do.
I want to be them, look like her, act like somebody else.
Who am I?
I’ve lost my identity and I don’t know where to find it, when did I lose it?
What do I like to do?
Is it what you like to do?
Does anyone else like the things I like to do?
Do I like that someone else likes the things I like to do?
Do I want to be unique, maybe stand out?
Don’t look at me please, leave me be.
Pay attention to what I am saying, please don’t leave me.
Do I want you to stay?
A million questions take over once again.
Why do I not know what I like?
How do I fix me? I think I am broken.
I would ask you to fix me, but that responsibility is mine.
I am not sure I can accomplish that task.
I think I am forever broken.
I’m sorry.
Author – Katherine Estelle