how did it come to this?
what do you do when you've reached the edge?
no matter how many people you surround yourself with, you are ultimately alone.
the house becomes a prison cell; a hiding hole, its 4 walls holding you claustophobically - but peacefully - in. the world is a sharp place - it pricks, it tears at your skin, it rips your hair. when you are nothing but a bloody pulp it picks at your organs. it never lets up.
just bury me in. hide me away from prying eyes. shelter me from the need to pretend everything is okay, from the pretense that everything is.
i want to scream and shout. i want to tell everybody how i feel. i want comfort.
but what right have i to unburden myself to others, shifting the weight on my shoulders to another whose shoulders are already weighted?
