The hardest thing about you darling is that you are addictive. It begins to feel uncomfortable not having you around and feeling heavy. I start feeling guilty for feeling happy, brushing my teeth or even eating.
You have made faking a smile so much easier than explaining what is wrong. After all, how does one explain what’s wrong when nothing’s right. I have tried some time, but it gets so frustrating having to describe you to someone who hasn’t met you. It is quite a mystery how you so effortlessly hide behind a smile, a bogus smile. Never mind the baggy shirts and sweat pants, the fake smile fools them all. The way you drain the last inch of strength to do the most menial tasks and have just enough for deception is impressive.
It confuses me all the time how I lost myself. I believe I know why because there are quite a few reasons, like, death, rape, bullying and so on. I don’t know when and I don’t know how though. It just happened. I was there, and then I wasn’t. It’s as if I was drugged and trafficked into your deadly world. Within the tiny pieces of memory I have left, I said the magic words: “I need a break from life”, then you kept me sedated to escape reality. Frankly, the sedatives were my long-awaited ride to my ultimate destination, death. I got stuck on the highway four times and yet I still want to head to the same destination.
You manage to make me feel like I bother people by just being alive, like I’m a nuisance of a disappointment to those that are supposed to care, just so I can be all yours. You have made your world so welcoming that I don’t remember my last genuine smile, loud laugh and tears of joy, and it worries me, what if I feel this way for the rest of my near-ending life? Congratulations on your triumph in convincing me that self-harm scars are attractive and that suicidal people are just angels who want to go home.
Dearest one, I am completely blinded by your toxic love. I wish to someday feel worthy enough to move on, just some day.
A recovering smurf