let the flood gates open

celebrating small accomplishments starts to feel like a sin again and i am desperately drowning myself in holy water; praying that the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t just my train of thoughts desperate to throw me back onto the tracks when i cannot keep track. my lungs are devoid of an athlete’s strength, there’s only so far i can run before the onset of a panic attack, when will it ever be enough, how do you know what’s enough, who do you think you are to know im not trying hard enough, why cant you be like others, an endless string of questions that strangle you with their hook-like curves. the attic you stored your trophy-worthy past is collecting dust and it is choking you; starting to turn into a haunting where the shadows stalk you and the ghost of a better future fades eventually into nothing. because your soul is a wasteland and there is nothing but the remnants of things people used to love.


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