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In a poem, well sort of.

I do wait.
No matter how many times I tell myself, it means nothing.
I keep on waiting. For a notification to pop up. From a certain person.
I do feel.
No matter how many zillion times I show other people I'm numb.
I keep on crying staring at the ceiling fan going round and round. At night when everybody is asleep. The light is only lit in my room.
I whisper to my heart. Can you beat without taking orders from my neurons?
I question my being.
I question my honesty and innocence.
I sink into oblivion
And in a long pause, I barely feel anything. I barely do anything. I'm just there.
In flesh, bones and blood, lying on bed, face soaking wet and barely got a hang of this life.
The earth is spinning, I wish sometimes I could feel the spins from the ground.
The gravity they say keeps us from floating, but I want to float.
I want my tears to bubble up and fly in the air.
My being is still a question mark
As I exhale a deep breath in the dark
I close my eyes and try to forget every little thought that finds me back
I try to forget all the sorrows I feel.
I seek out my blanket in the dark and curl up like a cat
Life isn't the way I thought it would be
As the days pass by, as the years pass by, my sorrows are only built block by block
getting stronger and making me weaker.
I want God to help me if He exists
I whisper a prayer in the most casual way
Adding words of desperation and cries
Praying for a shorter life.
I am scared.
Of losing what I haven't lost yet.
I am scared of becoming the last person to live.
I want to be the first.
But I also want to see what my eyes haven't seen, my hands haven't touched, my hair hasn't brushed
New country, new air, new ground. These are made of dreams, I speak to myself. Dreams. Stop it.
Shut your eyes, focus on sleep.
How can I want to die and live at the same time?
That's simple. You're not happy. End of discussion. Now sleep.
It's not that important, is it? As long as you have a roof over your head.
Food on the table. Your sadness is a luxury. An extra vehicle that sits in the garage.
Now sleep, close your eyes, you don't need to feel your emotions, just shove them down your throat, dispose them.
Love, you have to go away, I have no one for you.
Smiles. You gotta stick, I need you sometimes to fake.
Voice, you're comfortable inside.
Thoughts. Don't linger.
Legs, don't curl.
Hands, don't fist
Eyes, go back to sleep.

I sink into oblivion. Again.
I wake up at noon to my mom shouting "I gave birth to a Satan"
And my dad saying how I am gonna get all the dreadful diseases because I skip breakfast.
My brother spraying water at me for me to leave the bed.
I know they all cares. I know in all the spite there's love hidden somewhere.
I know but they don't. I care too. They think I am numb but I have all sorts of feelings.

Feelings to be written in poems, in journal entries but never spoken out loud.
How typical of a girl.






















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