A Mess™️

And I’m starting to wonder if I’m the problem like I always thought.

My joints are shards of ice that crack and shatter and reform in agonizing repetitions. My fingers are wrapped in thick blankets of snow that I’m wishing to melt away. But I don’t want to be warm. No. My eyes are sweeping closed with leaden metal. The warmth that crawled down my cheeks has just left frozen paths that have stuck my lashes down. But I don’t want to be warm. No. My teeth chatter and my limbs shake and everything aches. But I don’t want to be warm. No. I’ve been trapped under layers of warmth all my life. Suffocated by my own body. Layers and layers and layers of weight I’ve been unable to shed. Every hateful indulgence securing another shackle. I’m tired. All I want is to waste away. Freeze into a pile of bones with the thinnest layer of snow to coat my form. I’ve tried so many times, but I can’t do it anymore. My only choice is to succeed. I won’t stop until I’m a simple frozen skeleton with nothing left to keep me warm.