Wednesday, January 16, 2008

I’m calling in sick (of myself) tomorrow.

i stare in the mirror and don't even see what looks back and follows me.
my eyes are red and swolen and sad. they reflect nothing, they are wide and bright, but i feel nothing like what they say. more like the kid dropped off a cliff.
lived a whole life without even living. there's something in my soul that tells me everything i know.
i am old in my head and young in my body. and long to find a way to fuse the two.
but all i've come up with is sitting alone and ignoring the way my stomach hurts when i breathe. and the way i can't think about anything else but me.
it's a self-centered way i've perfected now. it revolves around me. but only halfheartedly.
but i can see through all the dumb things you've done. i can see the person you are. and your tiny body gets crushed in the gravity of it.
but i am sick of living in this body. i am sick of my scrawniness and misshapen form. i am sick of my straw hair and my beady eyes and my flaky lips.
i don't know how to board up all my walls. because the twister is coming and i am the only one left in town. the only one with more than a clue. and the only one to wake up.

get out. i need to branch away. i need to grow, and i need to live.