Poetry: Existence

My eyes are sore -- like I’ve been crying for hours. Yet, I feel emotionally dead. It’s at moments like this when I question my life -- my existence.

What good do I do?

Who would truly suffer my absence when there is no joy in my presence?

I am a dark cloud.

I am not suicidal by any means.

But

the desire?

the... urge, maybe?

Thought.

I don't know what to call it...

a feeling?

This...

thing.

It creeps in while I am in despair.

These demons of the mind.

I want to fade like morning mist.

Maybe not forever but...

Why remain here?

I cannot remember the last true act of kindness that someone gave me.

I can't see any affection in the eyes of those around me.

I was a part of their past

but now?

The present is full of flippancy -- perhaps done in ignorance but

a rejection nonetheless.

My eyes hurt.

This constant headache is throbbing in pain;

it (partially) blinds me.

I feel sick.

I think. I don't know what I feel.

I want to lay down. I want to move.

I want to barf. I want to consume.

I want to cry. I want to sleep.

I want to be loved and babied. I want to be left alone.

No questions. No demands. No probing.

Please.

I can't take any more of this.

That's the only thing I am clear on:

I want the interrogation to stop forever.

I feel stuck.

I want to faint. I'm terrified of passing out.

I want to die but not really.

I don't know what I want and I don't know if I'm in a problematic place.

All I know is

Keep on chugging

Don't let it phase you
Be better than this

This feeling won't last forever

Do what you're supposed to do and maybe one day it'll be enough.

It's hard to see the silver lining when alone in the dark.