Nov 28

Bro ken P erson

I am so tired.
All the time.

I have happy moments.
Like this snow, this snow that is falling.
That is happy.

I left footprints in the snow.
They looked exactly as I knew they would.
I was not wearing socks.
Or shoes.

I have decided I do not like periods they mark the end.
But I still use them.
Because I think there must be an end.
That is how it always is.

I read a book 
called We Were Liars
And it was beautiful and frightning and terrible
And it explained the human brain
Linked in a few heartbeats.

It is only when I am.
Laughing with my friends about how we are not okay.
And I know I am not okay, not at all.
It is only those moments when I feel okay.

I am so tired.
All the time.

No one knows why because I don't tell them.
Don't tell them how I can't sleep, instead I drift in and out of nightmares that I can't remember in the morning
so my eyes flash open over and over and my body is soaked in sweat all night.
Don't tell them how all I want to do is lie in bed but
not
sleep because it's no more safe than the daytime world so instead I keep my eyes open and stare at the wind
pretend to be sleeping when someone looks in while my mind
wreaks havoc on my body.

Pain erases me, it is always there.
Perhaps I am crazy. That would be okay.
In a defining sense at least.

Dripped water on the pages of my notebook today.
Normally that makes me panic because words
are diamonds to me.
Today I just sat there and stared
The drops were so perfect and round and clean and simple.
I couldn't ruin that.

I am a broken person