this is a mess i am a messMature

and i mean, fuck, 
because how- how- how-

i'm like a broken record on repeat
and i can't stop spinning

my limbs seem detached, 
weightless, floating in nothing, 
and this isn't disassociation, 
this is just the usual cracks in my body

and i don't get it, 
how people hold themselves together

because i'm taping over all my sharp edges, 
covering scratches with cloth
and trying to pretend that everything is smooth and polished

when in fact i'm scrambling to 
not just. 
fall a p a r t 

and i feel like i'm not real,
alone in space with nowhere, 
nothing to tether myself to 

and i can tell myself all the lies i want, 
murmur blind comforts like i might believe them, 
dipping fingertips into boiling tea

just to feel something


i could be a glitch, 
flickering in and out of existence, 
banished by tech support
and coming back 
like some sort of clingy ghost

i'm scattered 
and i know, i've had people ask
why i don't use capitals 
and shit
and i don't and i don't mind the questions, honestly, 
but i feel like it's just going to be annoying, 
all the typos

but i don't have the energy 
or lack of pain necessary to edit this
and i'm so goddamn tired
as my stomach cramps up
because i'm not actually sure if i ate anything today

maybe breakfast
but i'm not sure

it's terrifying, though, 
that i might just be me 
and nobody will ever see me as anything important, 
anything that makes an impact, 
and i will just disappear when i die

i'm so afraid of being erased
like some kind of blemish
(because maybe i am, i don't know,
i don't know anything anymore)

and they're all pretty 
gleaming and whole

while i curl up next to their thrones
and try to hold onto my hands 

as i peel apart, 
there is nothing undern e a t h 

i am shaking and shuttering and shivering, 
shattering, that was the word i was looking for, 
at the very end
sorting and sifting my way through
rounded vowels and stretched-out syllables
until i find what fits like a puzzle piece
into an open slot

i am not a puzzle piece
i do not fit
there is no space for me

like the only language i speak
is a mangled mess of outdated binary
and stuttered french words

i don't want to exist anymore, 
not if everything feels like this

i want to be nothing, 
but maybe i just only want to feel nothing

i'm human, though, 
so i'm stuck with this
until my dying day

but i can't do this, 
i'm missing something, 
something- something-

of myself,
of the world around me, 
with this constant mantra of two words:

i'm sorry. 

The End

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