There’s something so devastatingly beautiful about storms
The way the lightning leaves cracks in the sky
Letting us peer through the other side
The way the rain soaks the earth
As it drums against our windows
The way thunder bellows into the atmosphere
Rattling our bones
Reminding us that
we are simply living in a world that does not belong to us
and that we are truly defenseless
no matter how much we puff out our chests
and yell back
the storm always yells back a little louder
strikes back a little stronger
and we surrender to the echoing
of something much bigger than us.
I am made up of failures,
I am built on disapproval,
I have lived my life on cracked foundation,
made from melting ice sheets,
I have built my life on rotting wood,
on fragile china.
I have bled on pages and pages of
over exaggerated comments,
and silent disapprovals.
I remain bleeding,
as I slowly break my bones
Hoping that I am bent into the shapes
Everyone else approves of.
I have erased myself from mirrors,
Painted pictures of nonsensical images,
of things people approve of.
I can’t remember what I used to look like.
I trace the outlines of my being
and it feels foreign to me.
I sold myself to the lowest bidder.
I used people’s approval as currency
In hopes to buy myself back.
But nothing I do seems to amount to the cost
Of a real human soul.
So I exist,
In my own emptiness,
I hear the hollowness,
Echoing sounds of “you could do better.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” she spoke softly but firmly, “I just can’t.”
She drowned her face into her hands and her body moved with her breathing. Her voice was filled with disappointment and a tinge of shame. She felt everything and it hurt her. She didn’t just give her heart, she gave her soul, her body, her everything. She started to numb herself, she spent her days into neutral. She always ended up feeling empty and hollow. She entered love like a sin and flogged herself with the pain of self-questioning, leaving her bruised but hallowed.
She breathed into the air, hoping for an answer from a silent god. She felt the world seeping into her skin and onto her bones. She twisted and turned her soul like an old Rubik’s cube in hopes of fitting into the colors of the spaces around her. She couldn’t do it. She never really could get it right. She thrusted her chest out and threw her head back in a desperate attempted to feel something. She let it all in. The anger, the pain, the sadness, the memories, and finally the calm.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she spoke weakly with determination, “I don’t want to.”