the broken parts are where the light shines through

I need a place to word vomit and I certainly can't do it on facebook. I feel so damn silly for a having any ounce of hope that the idea of putting myself out there was going to do any form of good when of course the only thing it could possibly do is destroy my mental health. I remember why I chose to be single and focused on my career. But I want that human connection so badly it presses deep into my chest and my chest feels like it's truly going to explode with want and desire for something that feels so impossible for me to obtain. How could any person take one look at me and desire me. I wish I hadn't tried because now there's this incredibly dull ache. My anxiety had been getting better until it became reactivated by my anxious attachment. I truly feel stupid. Silly girl, there's no boy for you.

my heart is quiet in an unconvinced way, heavy with every beat - undecided which turn to make as it stutters to work and here I sit, staring off and looking at nothing waiting, waiting, waiting

I cant seem to get ahold of reality, as it slips and slides around my plate and I watch from the skies like I'm a translucent orb floating in lavender haze.

My hallways are cluttered with words and thoughts, begging to be put somewhere else and I cannot manage to organize them at all.

I am forgotten by the moon, out of sight and out of mind, because I normally am not someone they need to worry about. She does fine alone and on her own. But left alone to my own devices, inside my own head, my voice echoes against the boxes packed in my own mind of memories of friendships once had. I am holding a box of matches in my left hand and my right grasps the railing of the upstairs balcony overlooking how many boxes I've had to put away. I've lived here alone for far too long. The gas can sitting next to my right foot. One quick kick and a strike would set this whole place in flames, showing how swift everything could burn. No one would even begin to notice.

remember when we were all here, all home, tucked safe between the blue and white bedsheets, the window open with the most beautiful breeze but that's not here anymore, the window is bordered up and cobwebs cover the walls and everyone is dead.

There's a lot that adulthood continues to teach me, lessons I never dreamed I would need to learn. I think most of my generation saw just how fragile our home was on 9/11 and then realized how toxic it was during the pandemic. There was a monumental shift in who I am as a person after that. I was deprived of human, physical interaction for a year and finally when we tried to piece our society back together, we were missing huge chunks of it. We're at home watching how poisonous our government is and wondering how the hell we got here. I'm not the same person I was before and I'll never be the person I thought I would have become. I have lost interest in living a personal life but instead I have found my fulfillment in my career, which is something I thought I'd never say. I've watched people walk out of my life and never look back and their ghosts of haunted me. I don't know where to go from here.

I can see my past when I turn my head to look behind me and watch as old me acts out scenes stuck to my memory like wet paper mache and mostly when I'm walking down this road, I'm looking down at my feet to make sure I don't trip but occasionally, I'll glance up hoping to see a new view, a glimpse into my future, a shot of color and iridescent and warm light... but all I can see is the damp, dark, blurred void.

I could stop existing, vanish like vapor, be swept away like the wind and there would be a hole in the universe for a minute while my family went through my things and donated the materialistic items I've collected and they would cry and miss me and people who knew me would remember me fondly or regret the last thing they said to me but grief slowly becomes interwoven into who you are and at some point they have to go back to work and paying bills and keeping up with other people in their lives and I'm not saying I'm going to do something so I no longer exist, but fuck, I do wish I didn't exist.