happilyheartbroken13

It’s not what people think it is A run-down adult, first drink at ten a.m. Eyes in the distance, a revolver in hand You were little when it started for you And you never quite wanted to die It was a tiredness that inhabited your bones Something in you that begged for rest For you to fall to your knees in the middle of the street lay your head on the pavement and just… sleep Crawl to the sideline and watch life go on Escaping its relentless flow, its merciless current Not forever, no, just long enough to recuperate Go back for a swim in quieter waters

It’s that same part of you that dreamt of disease and accidents That imagined the white quiet emptiness of an hospital room You know the danger of the bittersweet comfort that comes with it You grew up imagining earthquakes Your school collapsing And you in the rubbles, in a little cave just big enough for one Safe and alone, freed from the duties and expectations From all those gazes constantly on you

Those were bad things to think But you were exhausted and sleep never came Unless you lured it in With scenarios of catastrophe and respite All you wanted was a break, a moment were things would be okay Or at least out of your hands Just a moment when you could stop counting the hours Cease your endless running, eyes always over your shoulder Catch your breath without them catching up with you

To you, it never got to the mental picture so many bear in mind The meds, the note, the clinic admission You were young and lucky You had good parents and some fight left in you But you know the despair that leads down this road In other circumstances you might have gotten there You toed the line but never stepped over the edge The closest you got was standing a second too long in incoming headlights Thinking “it would not be that bad” before moving out of the way

It was insane, of course  But back then, everything was insane It was all too much and yet never enough Your black-rimmed eyes saw nothing but darkness They stared at the void Having known nothing before this burden You couldn’t fathom something different Your head so often pushed down Your gaze couldn’t reach the horizon

It’s a question of perspective, in time it got better It always does But once you’ve glimpsed down the well You never quite forget  The weight of the stone tied to your neck Bending you ever farther Calling you to the bottom in a soft inviting voice Which forced you to lean closer You can never unknow the effort it took to stand upright again