Somewhat Damaged

Feels like all I ever say is I’m sorry

I should just write them out like lines I used to do in school

And then tape the words over my mouth

Or throw them in the trash

For all the good they’ve ever done for me

I’m exhausted of the emails, the appointments and the alarms I can’t get out of bed for

I’m tired of trying to pretend

To fake it till I make it

To paste a smile on my face

It’s not for me anyway

I’ve never been so skilled at make believe that i could dupe myself

It’s for your comfort

And his

And hers

And it makes me feel worse

I don’t want to care what anyone thinks

I don’t want to see the judgemental looks

I don’t want to hear the accusatory tones or the false sympathies

Yet It’s all my brain can process

Everything has become so fake it smells like my grandmothers plastic couches

Or so bleak it’s like I’m trapped in a dark closet with no light bulb and no way out

I want to shut off my brain

My somewhat damaged brain

This brain of mine

What good has it ever done me?

Filled with anxious thoughts that I couldn’t get rid of

Then so much sadness it was drowning in a sea of it

Then lesions that *poof just appeared one day

And I’m supposed to find a silver lining in this?

Since I’m so skilled at apologizing…

Here goes nothing:

I’m sorry that my lining must be covered by so much shit that I can’t fucking see it

Maybe I misplaced it along the way

For what it’s worth I’m sorry that I lost it

I’m sorry that I lost that silver fucking lining that would make all of this bearable

I’m sorry that I can’t find the silver lining that would give all of this shit a deeper meaning

I’m sorry that I can see everyone else’s silver lining

I’m sorry that maybe some people are just born without the ability to see their silver lining

And I’m so fucking sorry that mine seems to be missing

Or maybe it’s somewhat damaged

And wouldn’t that be a perfect kind of irony?

(An angry playlist to go with an angry mood)

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The power of anger can rage inside until it tears you apart

It’s been an anger fuelled few weeks

It’s not one thing that I can pinpoint

But rather an avalanche of bullshit

I can’t really tell which event triggered the catastrophic movement

I only know that at this point it seems like the load is unbearable and can’t possibly withstand anymore weight

I can feel anger building within me

I can feel the moment where my blood begins to boil

Feel the way it warms my body

Feel the adrenaline racing through my body

Gearing up for a fight

I’ve always likened anger to a pop bottle that continues to build its fury when shaken

And we all know what it happens when the next poor fool opens the bottle

But

What happens the avalanche doesn’t stop?

The fight doesn’t happen?

The pop bottle never gets opened?

The toxicity just stays in the body

It permeates every cell

It ferments

It changes you

It alters who you are

How you see the world

How others relate to you

And this is the fucked up part;

It doesn’t kill you

Instead,

It just slowly ruins you

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