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Underneath the Surface
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Everything feels a lot like destruction at a certain point where I want to break down finally and mutter, "I give up."
My heart drowns into hysterical anguish and my lungs feels like they would never inhale once more. Every breath I take comes off as an enormous complication. That's when, I want to yell out loud and tell life to piss off and leave me alone.
But sadly for me, I learned people don't usually get what they want and then I go mute. I let myself to be washed away by my insecurities, confess myself that I would never be what I expect to be.
I go deaf to what people say, I go blind to what's in front of me. I want to smash my head onto a brick wall and then smile when my life starts slithering away from me. It's a lot to ask though so I keep silent and let them step over me as a door mat. I listen to music and drown myself into the lyrics just so I can avoid reality.
If you read my eyes thoroughly, they would tell you the amount of devastation they had seen, they would tell you how I tripped more than once and climbed back up. They would tell you how much miseries they had seen, they would tell you about my life. But then, nobody actually reads my eyes so what I have seen remains untold.
If you paid close attention to my smile, it would tell you how much effort it takes to be an absolute facade, it would tell you how much I hate stretching my mouth to form a smile. It would tell you about how my heart aches even though I manage to form a smile.
If a pen was my voice, it would keep writing until it's ink runs out, until the pages are bleeding with ink, until the tip breaks off. It would scream out, only to reach million ears.
But none of them had paid enough interest, so they remain hidden, wishing to be unveiled.
Years after years, months after months, the feeling of hatred breeds naturally, turning myself against my loved ones, against the world. The hatred turns me blind and I find myself entirely immersing into the deep abyss I always stayed away from.
Suddenly, it feels like an end.
© beautiful monkey
Everything feels a lot like destruction at a certain point where I want to break down finally and mutter, "I give up."
My heart drowns into hysterical anguish and my lungs feels like they would never inhale once more. Every breath I take comes off as an enormous complication. That's when, I want to yell out loud and tell life to piss off and leave me alone.
But sadly for me, I learned people don't usually get what they want and then I go mute. I let myself to be washed away by my insecurities, confess myself that I would never be what I expect to be.
I go deaf to what people say, I go blind to what's in front of me. I want to smash my head onto a brick wall and then smile when my life starts slithering away from me. It's a lot to ask though so I keep silent and let them step over me as a door mat. I listen to music and drown myself into the lyrics just so I can avoid reality.
If you read my eyes thoroughly, they would tell you the amount of devastation they had seen, they would tell you how I tripped more than once and climbed back up. They would tell you how much miseries they had seen, they would tell you about my life. But then, nobody actually reads my eyes so what I have seen remains untold.
If you paid close attention to my smile, it would tell you how much effort it takes to be an absolute facade, it would tell you how much I hate stretching my mouth to form a smile. It would tell you about how my heart aches even though I manage to form a smile.
If a pen was my voice, it would keep writing until it's ink runs out, until the pages are bleeding with ink, until the tip breaks off. It would scream out, only to reach million ears.
But none of them had paid enough interest, so they remain hidden, wishing to be unveiled.
Years after years, months after months, the feeling of hatred breeds naturally, turning myself against my loved ones, against the world. The hatred turns me blind and I find myself entirely immersing into the deep abyss I always stayed away from.
Suddenly, it feels like an end.
© beautiful monkey
