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when i’m out i think about strange things.
i stand in the same spot looking at the same item until the person standing beside me leaves.
i’m secretly waiting for them to say hello or make some off comment about something.
they never do
but neither will i.
if i were a product, i wouldn’t sell very well. my commercials would be in vain because no one watches them or even gets the sly puns and jokes. i’d be horribly designed and the last thing you would consider putting into your grocery cart or whatever kind of cart. even if i could save your life. even still, i’d be very expensive.
I’m being stalked by the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. As though everything I’ll ever pursue or want to pursue, will be in vain, I’m not good enough to complete anything in it’s entirety. I’ll never be where I want to be, probably ever. Thoughts as these are depressing and’ll have you writing a will at a very young age.
There’s this feeling that I have. I don’t want to be awake anymore but I don’t want to sleep, well I’m not sleepy. There’s another feeling I have. It’s one where someone shops and buys new things just to have something to look forward to for a while, to keep themselves moving because life doesn’t provide enough momentum to do that for them. There’s a feeling I wish i had. It’s not so much a feeling as it is a completeness.
It’s a wonder how much time of your life you spend wishing you were someone else, somewhere else where Why me is a plea for an escape, a quick exit located at the back of life which leads to a new person begging for the same ticket out.
We’re all secretly miserable.
As you sit where you sit or stand where you stand, you begin to feel yourself fall. It starts internally but then you realize it’s real. As you fall at an alarming rate you don’t fight it, you don’t scratch and claw to save yourself. Instead of resisting the way of gravity, you just go with it. There’s no need to fight, there isn’t much of a point either. All you can do is hope for a quick, merciful end or to wake up.
Have you ever gone through your playlist and listened to the songs that you never really listen to and wonder Why don’t I listen to these anymore? Maybe they remind you of a time you’d rather forget and you’d much rather skip the song than relive the hurt. But it’s bittersweet. The lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with you, but in your mind it speaks in the voice you want to forget but long to hear. Your heartbeat mimics the beats of the drum and with every chord follows a punch to the gut. And when it finally ends it leaves you bruised with the courage to face the other skipped tracks.
I hope the next one is the last.
I don’t know. I can’t help but feel inferior to every passing being on the street. Like I’m the dirt and grime that is pushed into the slim cracks of the pavement by their rubber soles, that piece of gum sneakily stuck to the underside of restaurant tables, the “KC+JT” written at the bottom of a bathroom stall that no one really sees.
Tread lightly.
I missed therapy. I’m starting to wish I’d went. There’s nothing like releasing to an almost stranger. Now there’s just walls.
