December Diary
18/12/22, 5:13AM

I'm starting to dread the moment I wake up, again. Thought I had finally gotten better, thought things were going well.

I'm just tired, oh so tired.

Everything is going too fast, I'm growing up too quickly; people come and people go without leaving me time to adjust.

Everything's too loud, everything's too quiet.

My mother is my other half, I wish to fall asleep in her embrace. My mother is my nemesis, I wish to saw the thread that binds us together.

I'm still a child, I'm already a woman. Find a partner and settle down but I wish I could play pretend one last time.
Craving comfort and body heat from strangers, struggling to care and love.

Either too much or too little.

Expectations are my burden. Sometimes, I feel like Atlantis when the only thing I did was get some milk from the store down the road.

Existence is exhausting but I could never cease to exist. Sometimes, I'm living out of spite, sometimes it's out of love for those who love me back but very rarely it is because I feel alive.

I feel alive when I come, basking in the peace of release. Content and warm, tired but blessed;
I feel alive when I am crafting my art, my hand creating something out of nothing. I feel like a god;
I feel alive when I get inked. Needle piercing my skin, the light pain reminding me I am here and the mark that is left a reminder that I am mine;
I feel alive when the tongue of a stranger slides over mine. My mind is off and my senses are on fire.

I find Life in fleeting moments, I find my will in a handful of seconds. But what are peaceful seconds compared to tiring decades? What is a spoonful of Life compared to a buffet of Staticity?

© WeepingWillow

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