Nothing Meant Everything

you want to be broken. you want to be positively messed up. because you have these feelings of sadness, emptiness and you don’t know why they’re there, and you don’t know what to do with them. all you know is that in their tragedy your art is amplified. so you search in the crumbs in the corner. you search in the syllables of other peoples stories indented like braille in your skin. you search for a reason that you could be this broken. you make yourself into a character. you turn your pale skin porcelain and plaster it onto the pages and forget what is real. you overdose on sleeping pills knowing full well that they won't kill you and then curse yourself for being too much of a damn coward to take that twenty three degree turn of the steering wheel into oncoming traffic. you pretend. a simple excuse for the seemingly origin-less emptiness that leaves you feeling cold. 

i want to grip your bones, and shake your scent out like shards of a broken mirror. i want to tell you that you are nothing. absolutely nothing. your forehead kisses are nothing. you telling me that you didn't like my hair straight is nothing. your arms like towers being the first thing to make me feel safe are nothing. your breath braided into my hair and whooshing against the nape of my neck is nothing. because in the back seat of your car, in the parking lot of your childhood park,  pretending like we're the only two people in the world, "nothing meant everything to me." 

but i don’t want to be a character in your pseudo sad, back seat fantasy. i am not a character. i am real. i burn my fingers on candle wax and binge eat pecan short bread at four in the morning. i have pencil smeared on my hand and i spill peach tea on just about every homework assignment and white t-shirt that i own and still leave my lipstick stain on the mug. 

i am real. i am real. i am real. 

Author's Note

don't even know what this really is. just pain in words.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and it is real pain...those who make us suffer...they aren't worth it...and we want to tell them that.
and we want to tell them they are nothing...

so expressive...

you are real, your words are real

and i am quickly becoming a real fan of your talent.

jacob

[Dana Alsamsam]

thank you, jacob. i think this person may still be worth it...although i fear that sentiment will end in my demise. it means so much to me that you enjoy my words- thanks again for reading :)

[Mr. Electric]

You say that this is just pain in words but that, to me, is good. You don't always need formats and styles and labels to make writing good, especially when you have a strong message. Good stuff.

[Dana Alsamsam]

thanks so much! your kind review means a lot to me.