We Were Made To Conquer Mountains

I feel like all I have left are thoughts. A million different thoughts buzzing around my brain at any given moment. The problem is that while the inside of me is buzzing and thinking, the outside of me feels like a shell. Lifeless, decomposing, numb. I can sit in a silent room, immobile, for 30 minutes, without even realizing nothing has happened because I’m so stuck in my head. I try to say all the things I’m thinking but they’re passing by too quickly and my mouth is moving too slowly to get it all out. But it’s not as if anyone actually knows how to listen anyway. I don’t blame them. They’re just unable to translate whatever language I’m speaking.

Nothing makes me happy anymore. Not really. Things make me appreciative sometimes, glad even. But no matter what it is, there’s always a big gray cloud hanging over it. I feel happy on my face, in the way it makes me actively turn my mouth upwards to create a smile. But I no longer feel it in my soul, in my heart, in the way it would give me goose bumps or a feeling of complete peace. I no longer feel happiness in the way it would change my entire day. I feel it as a sigh of relief, glad that it didn’t go the other way & ruin my day instead.

I sit on my couch, attempting to ignore the ugly reality I live in by submerging myself in fictitious stories on Netflix. I try to detach myself from everything around me, let go, and float off into a world where my brain is not the loudest thing in the room. But really, I want to float away on a breeze and watch as I’m taken further and further away from my living room. I want to float over canyons and oceans and battle fields. I want to be free to fly away and, if I choose, never look back. But I’m tethered to a stake in the ground and the water bowl is just out of reach and I feel like I am constantly gasping for air.