it feels almost like how a child who managed to stay up all night only to realize santa’s not real, the wave washes over you and it seeps in, it sinks in. but not really, not really because the one i see in the mirror isn’t santa, her face is tear streaked and her eyes red and pleading, i can’t bear to look i have to look away
how do you stop feeling like you’re anchored down by the burden of past mistakes and daunting, unfulfilled tasks? how do you stop your weak hands from fumbling, how do you silence the deafening voices in your head, kill the inner demons, finally learn how to breathe when you’re not underwater?
when will i be able to genuinely accept the kindness people show me instead of telling myself that those are lies, those are the lies you choose to feed yourself because you are empty and made of nothing, when will it get better, when. when is the question, to be or not be.
white noise 