Nov 29

the importance of existing

a hand holds my thigh, and for
the first time in months, i feel as
if i can feel myself returning to existence.

it’s such a big word, existing,
it’s such a hard thing to do, but
8 billion unhappy creatures crawl
out of their minds and take it on
every day, so who am i to let myself go?

my fingers dabble in blue paints
as i sit by the window, watching strangers
laugh with eachother, and i wonder if
that is what i will look like in a few years,
and if belonging comes with age.

my heart feels something other than
love and sadness, and yes, maybe i am
scared, scared to change the person
i have turned into, but aren’t we all?

i am scared that i have spent 3 months
thanking the people that have hurt me
more than the people i have screamed at,
but what’s scarier is that i just want to forget.

they told me to have fun, and if i’m 
being perfectly honest, i was too tired
to understand that i was the only one
who wasn’t listening to them.

somedays, i wake up and i feel
like myself again.
somedays, i wake up and i exist.