She Was Sea

No one knows how hard it is for you; you who lives in your own prison of hatred self-loathing and failure. No one listens to you, no one understands. No one even has the time. But they demand your time so they can clear their consciences and tell themselves ok I’ve given this thought like a task they can kick off a list but never really consume themselves in it because who has the time for that. So I make it easier for them and keep everyone off my issues.

I remember telling my mother how I didn’t have it in me to take on my studies, that I was at the edge, I didn’t know how else to explain. But of course, brilliant as she is, she has forever failed to empathise with me and this time was no different. The disconnection truly is appalling. One of the cases where her maternal instincts definitely failed to kick in. I’m the different one, the one no one really understands.

Now, every time I go over my lessons I wish to kill myself even sooner. Now, this isn’t something Id say, but it truly is how I feel. And I’m sick of the oh I’m okay how are you. No, I’m not okay. I don’t think I will ever be okay again. I took my okay for granted. We are long past okays.

When you say rough it out or get through the storm, I feel like I’ve already withered enough storms and I no longer have the capacity to endure further. I just don’t have it in me anymore. I don’t have it in me to tolerate even the slightest inconveniences as that for me is the world failing me for the hundredth time. I’m at my peak. I’m too deep in my troubles adapting a new perspective is impossible. From where I stand, everything is bleak.