Not Okay

An actual blog post*
Not a poem or a painting
No art to share
Just a thought
Or a few

I’ve been intensely
And unyieldingly

Holy fuck
Why am I alive

First thought
When I wake up every fucking hour
Is either an actual suicide plan
Or at the very least
Fuck me, I’m not dead

And I realize how much shit
Is going down
And wrong in the world
I do
I’m not an asshole

And honestly
It’s a piece of the
Why-am-I-depressed? puzzle
The human backslide
And my personal life
Is just as much a casualty

And I’m tired of waking
I’m tired of sleeping
Of not dreaming
Of screaming without chords
I just keep begging
Praying and wishing
Hoping it will stop
That tomorrow will be the day
I wake up
Without this lead-weighted soul

I want so desperately to be
Not this
Not worse
Capable of affect not artifice
I’m bumbling
Stunted and blunted

It’s begun again
The neurological breakdown
It’s making it impossible
To order my thoughts
To love
To live

And the smile you are seeing?
I’m faking it
Maybe I’ll make it tomorrow
Or maybe
I’ll just use the staple gun in the shower
So I don’t leave a mess

*This was the original title of this post, and I had no intention of it being a poem.. But it became one. So, I’m a liar, a narcissist, and a whiny asshole. And I’m sorry..


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook:
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