Depression And Cats

- JOHN GREEN, turtles all the way down.

its such a weird feeling, knowing i am so self consumed, that i dont know how to be there for someone, i will sit there with you, i will listen to everything you have to say but i feel like, that makes no difference in anyone's life, that i am so easily replaceable that may be people will feel better to lose me, cause i just add responsibility in others life, i hardly share any, this feeling that may be i am so detached that i am close to nobody and may be i will never be, i dont think anyone will ever miss me unless they have nothing good going in their life, and i dont even understand why anyone miss me or may be its just curiosity and wandering thought, they say i am complicated may be i am so simple that i am nothing.

I still visit the tear soaked pages

in my journal; and recite the words there,

like well practiced eulogies

in memoriam of the person I used to be before;

Before nothingness was the only thing

that reverberated within my ribcage and sometimes;

Sometimes it escapes, passed my lips

and engulfs me in a soul sucking vacuum; nothing

bouncing & recoiling thunderously

off the ceilings and stained glass walls.

And I am nothing;

Nothing but a spectator

in a cathedral of ghosts,

daydreaming of sadness

Or

anything

but the nihility I’m cursed to endure.

I still visit the tear soaked poems

in my journal; and recite the words there,

like well practiced eulogies.

The ink has long smudged

and rests as unrecognisable as

the weathered headstones in necropolises.

But

I-

I still linger on the emotions

embedded in the pages.

I’m still breathing. 

You bruised me with a thousand words, because yes, they absolutely can hurt as much as sticks and stones. 

You raised your fist like I deserved to be held accountable for your unhappiness. 

You told me I was the reason that you would never be whole, and it scraped at my confidence fight after fight.

It took me too fucking long to leave you. I don’t know if I was afraid of being alone or if I actually fucking loved you. 

But I did it. And I’m still fucking breathing.