I sink my claws into everything that I can perceive to be something like me, I hold onto it so tight and never let anyone see it because I fear that I will lose it. That the’ll take it from me and it won’t be right anymore, and yet I howl and complain that I’m lonely. I push people out and hold them at a distance, I hold my thoughts down, and I have the audacity to cry about feeling lonesome and confused.
I fear that I’ll lose myself in my own mess, in the static of everything else around me. I don’t know what’s real, I don’t know. I hold onto the sad shit that makes me feel something because the threat of feeling less and less is very real and I don’t want to slip away. I’m stumbling around in the dark trying to hold onto what I think is important and trying to hold onto joy, trying to find myself.
But I’m too disoriented and I can’t feel.
