Oct 16

Want, Want, Want

Dearest people whom I don't know, this is how I feel,
So...
Thanks?




I want it all to disappear,
Like Huddini sliding into a little box and fading away,
To finally slide that blade across my throat,
And end it all.

I want to feel something other than this.
This sense my heads being held underwater,
Like I'm trapped under a layer of glass,
Slowly drowning in my own emotions.

I want to run off to some remote,
Foreign place,
Where their words can't hit me,
Where my mistakes aren't being judged,
And I'm not being shot down for my imperfections and slip-ups,
And far-fetched dreams,
Where I have space to learn,
And grow,
And live.

I don't want to be confined into the categories of,
'School Lizzy', 
And 'Home Elizabeth',
Both me, 
But,
Both not.

I want to stop,
Take a deep breath,
And just,
Breathe.

For just one moment.

I want,
I want,
I want, 
I want.

It's like they want me to go faster,
So I keep going,
Out of breath and out of hope,
Faster and faster.

Wanting and dreaming without thinking,
Without listening.

The blade still rests against my neck,
And I finally stop.

I finally...

Give in,
And drop the knife. 

It falls gently,
Like someone hit the slow-motion button on the controller,
Light glints off the sides,
And it gently thuds on the ground.

Everything's clear,
Everything's...
Bright.
Like a Christmas song,
Happy and Cheerful,
Memorable.

Memories.

Those are important.

The future is full of soon-to-be memories.

But the present,
They say,
Think of the present,
Think of chores,
Think of walking the dog,
Think of waking up on time,
Think,
Think,
Think.

But then I remember the knife,
Resting at my feet,
The happiness I once had,
Before she left,
Before life hit me in the head,
Solid and unflinching,
Like a brick wall.

Sometimes I wish I was never born,
My therapist says it's the anxiety,
The depression.

So when do I get to be happy,
I wonder as I lay in my bed, 
Staring at the ceiling,
Waiting for sleep to eventually drag me under its warm embrace,
I wonder what's going to happen in the next few years ahead,
What's already happened.

And I think of my wants,
My dreams.

But,
I'm selfish,
I'm shallow,
I'm cold,
And rude,
Someone who only ever wants.

And wants,
And wants.

But,
When do they start to give?
Why do I get to want things I can't have,
When the only reason I can't have them is because they won't give.

Why 
When I want it so bad?
 
Love,
The prejudiced teenage daughter.