My mind is spinning so fast
I’m gone.
I’ve left.

My body is frozen in time.

Living in the now and the then
is like living in two alternate universes.
I’m stuck between the two.
I’m never fully in the past
nor in the present.

I flicker
and switch back and forth
like a light switch.

It’s out of my control
most of the time.

I’m not living at all in the end.

I’m dead inside.
I’m a zombie.
I’m numb.

I’m not sleeping,
then I’m not eating.

Things shift,
and reality blurs.

Days pass
with no defining beginning or end.

Nothing makes sense anymore.
Nothing seems to matter.

I no longer care what happens.
Sometimes to myself,
most of all.

Things will play out how they are meant to.

For reasons, I can’t fully grasp,
I’m still desperately trying to survive each day.

I’m grasping at anything
to keep me afloat.

But the darkness below grabs hold of me,
and I slip beneath.

Swallowing water,
sinking slowly.

I’m no longer fighting anymore.
I’m giving in.

And there is a sense of peace
in that surrender.

Until something—
or someone—
pulls me up from above.

I choke,
cough,
and puke it all back up.

Gasping for air,
disappointed instead of relieved.

Tears stream down my cheeks.
I don’t notice
until I taste them
on my lips.

Then her face flashes in my mind.
The one who has always known me best.
The one who survived so much
alongside me
for all those years, especially as kids.

The look I imagine on her face
if she knew,
imprints upon me.

My heart breaks
at that image of her
in my head.

It shatters me.

Confused,
I wonder
why the darkness didn’t take me.

It should have.

So why me?
I am no one.

What is it
that keeps me tethered
to this earth?

Bound to this life?

No matter how hard
I’ve tried to leave here,
it,
something,
has me by the ankle.
By the soul.

It won’t let me go.
It keeps me here.

More than once now,
it has forced me to stay.

I feel like a coward
immediately after.
A failure.

Ashamed I’m not strong enough.
Ashamed, I still don’t want to be here.

I should feel lucky.
Grateful instead.

And I do.

But most of the time,
I just feel this sadness
bone deep.

It can almost crush my chest
with the weight it carries.

I don’t think I was ever meant
for this world.

I fight it
every day.

Some days
more than others.

It’s a battle
with myself.

One that drains me
to the core.

I pray it ends.

Or
that I find the strength
one final time
to end it.

I’ve already been given
more chances than most.

One way or another,
I will find a way out.

Free from those
who chose to judge
with smiles on their faces.
Tearing me down
while claiming they aren’t.
Calling it love and concern instead.

But most of all,
free from the pain.

Finally.

Weightless.
Floating away.