literature

read this without breathing

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paperheartsyndrome's avatar
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Literature Text

Don't call me beautiful.

This isn't some over the counter form of self-deprecation. It's truth in a full-informed prescription. Maybe you've figured this out by now and I'm wasting my words telling you, but darling, I'm an acidic mess and I promise I'll burn holes through your best intentions. Read this as the label marked "warning." Or maybe I'm a battlefield and honestly, blow by blow, you're killing me. But usually, I'm simply a one-way road that dead-ends at your doorstep and I'm crashing into you.

I swear we do the worst things to each other in the worst and most nonsensical ways.

Don't pretend I'm clever.

I'm just recycled words from recycled thoughts from recycled people. Not one piece of me is remotely original. The sad truth is I'm more horrible than I seem. I'm a wildly mismatched collection of sad songs on scratched cds, half-read books and unraveling cardigans all accumulating in a giant mess meant to impress the next person and then the next. Until I realize that I just spent a year being someone I'm not and now who am I really if all I was to begin with was a second rate version of someone else's someone else. We can sit here and act like I'm something special that the world's never seen, but really I'm just nothing and the sad harsh truth of the matter is I'm not deserving of your praise. I can't smile with my eyes or bite my lip without making it bleed.

I can't make you laugh and I can't make you love me, because I can't do anything.  

Don't tell me I'll be okay.

I'm not misunderstood. I get it. Everyone feels like me who feels like you who feels like someone they met last night. And I know everyone's had their heart broken and we all pretend like it doesn't matter--that it's more of the same. But honestly, I don't have the words to tell you how this really feels. It's like I have my walls up. My doors locked, the windows shut, and the curtains are drawn like no one is home. That is how blank I feel. I wish I had the words for you but I'm empty.

And words are just words without their meaning.
then you'll know how I feel.

this needs work and work and more work.
© 2011 - 2024 paperheartsyndrome
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TheHazmatSuit's avatar
I tried reading it without breathing all in one sitting...and I felt a sensation, a feeling I have felt for five straight years of my life, from middle school to the middle of high school. Depression. I was an insecure boy all over again, trying to push the next day away, to get back under the covers. To change every single aspect of myself daily to suit those around me, trying to be a block of unfeeling, uncrackable stone and failing, failing, failing, failing...I want to  thank you for this piece of writing. In time, things have started to finally go the way I want them to go, and I hope the same is true for you. I wish you all the happiness in the world.