Posted in senseless musings

Sometimes the Sadness Takes You Under.

It’s not that you really have a problem, it’s that there’s a voice in the back of your head (always, waiting, patient) telling you that there should be, that you are the problem.

It’s not that you’re sad all the time, is that you could be.

It’s not that my lungs are filled with water, it’s just that I can’t easily breath most of the time. It’s that I trained myself to think ‘this is fine, this is okay’ about everything and anything because that is easier than always being angry.

Sad and angry are just two sides of a dice.

It’s not that I have depression, it’s that I tend to have depressive intrusive thoughts.

It’s not that I want to live another life, or that I want to die, or that I want to disappear, it’s that it’s easier to waste hopes and dreams away thinking about other universes, other choices, other me. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about fragile bones and sweet onion skins being torn apart by anger and sadness.

I am sitting here, in bed, waiting, listening. I am still here, after all these years. I am never changing. I am never becoming anything other than what I am now.

I am wasting, wasteful, wasted.

I am not always happy and not always sad. I don’t always make myself happy, but I can always make myself sad.

I will never amount to anything. I will always be here, in this bed, thinking of other universes, impossible futures. I will picture the exact way my heart could be broken, how blood tastes in the back of my mouth. I will ask myself questions with no answers and pinche myself every time the dream gets too real.

I wish anxiety ran through my veins the way blood does. I wish it paralyzed me. I wish it hurt me.

I wish I had a better brain. I wish I were a better person.

I wish I didn’t run away from everything. I wish I could care more than I do.

I wish I didn’t play the victim.

I wish sadness wouldn’t take me under every other day. If you want me so much, then just finish the job. Consume me. Grab me. Sink me into an ocean of darkness and fear. Don’t just take me when it’s inconvenient. Take every day and night, every second of every hour of my life. If I’m going to be sad then let me be sad all the time.

Don’t just touch me. Kill me.

 

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Author:

23-year-old writer from Chile. Currently reading, writing, and trying not to lose my mind.

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