Copyright, Cowardly

There are days where I’ve convinced myself that I’m not a real person. That I do not have the right, that I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do. That I have no reason. Days that pass like a thick black ooze, and days that wash right through my head. Days were I feel so incredibly stupid, moronic, retarded and intellectually underdeveloped that I don’t even bother to open my mouth. Days were I feel so fucking (*cringe*) perky, that nothing can get me down. Except stepping off that school bus, walking down that hill and opening the door to an empty house. Days were you can reach out and pluck the tension in the air like guitar strings. Plink out a ‘little ditty’ on the hostile air that hangs between my Mother and my Father. Days were the insistent whining of a spoiled 12-year old cuts right through my head, ripples down my spine in an agonizing wave and curls up contently in the pit of my stomach. Days where I can’t stand the smell of food, and days where I can’t stop stuffing it down my fucking face. Never a day goes past where the music is too soft and the air so fucking loud with nothing. Empty days that dig a ditch in my chest right were the pulsing muscle of my heart is supposed to be. Days I can’t even speak correctly from lack of use in my self-imposed solitary confinement. All of it, every day just hits you between your eyes and squirms its slimy, slithery way through your body, like you’ve been infested. Like you can reach down into the empty cavity of your stomach and pull out a hand full of writhing maggots. Days like those I feel too much. And I use that nice shiny razor blade to cut those parasites out. To stop me from thinking, to keep that headache from traveling down my neck into my shoulders. To keep their stares away from my line of vision. To stop their whispers. To make the disappointment in their eyes disappear, and the malice that they feel for each other. To stop the pain I’m ignoring from the younger sibling, to drown the guilt I feel for doing so. I read and hear a lot about people doing so they can feel something — I do it so I don’t.


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