Falling Apart.

Story of my life.

Falling apart is the only thing I am truly good at.

The days pass by like the wind, and the pain comes again.

I sit alone, in my room, and listen to my sad aching heart beat,

a melody of sorrow and loss,

a scream of want and desire for someone to love me.

I sit all alone, in my room, and watch the room become an oil painting,

hazy as the colors mesh.

I blink out the burning salt, and I slip my hands slowly to my head.

I knot my fingers in my hair.

Absurd, absurd.  No control, no control.  Lost, lost!

I dig my nails into my scalp, and hold in the sobs.

My lips move to my thoughts, and my voice sounds.

"They're out to get me, everyone is out to get me.  This is ridiculous!  Get a grip!

Stupid stupid stupid!  Weakling!  Manipulative child!  I love myself, I do, I do, I do, right?

I am beautiful.  I am sane.  I am sane.  I am losing this battle.  I am giving up."

I laugh at myself, a mockery to my own being.

I curl my toes upon another, and tremble, my body aching so.

I rock back and forth, back and forth, finding the comfort I once had from this gone.

I grab my head, shake it side to side, laugh like a maniac, and fall apart.

Absurd, absurd.  No control, no control.  Lost, lost!

Absurd, absurd.

                     No control, no control.

                Lost, lost!

Falling apart is what I am best at.

Don't doubt it.

Reviews

[Dylan S.]

My God, I see so much of me in here. "Falling apart is the only thing I am truly good at." I immediately connected with this the moment I saw that line.