Thursday

i am so sick of disappointing myself and everyone around me.

the kind of loathing that comes from the center of your chest and radiates outward until it pools in your fingertips. It stops in your knees,those little white dots of cruel energy that make you want to scratch a hole in your stomach, letting the better part of yourself escape, having a chance to be seperate from the weakly hued brown slime that you feel like, the color of the spit from tobacco, the filthy mouths of baseball players, all prone to lewd speech and plaque that plagues crooked teeth. you are in pain, and overwhelmed with the driving urge to literally climb out of your own repulsive visceral mass, getting caught in forests of flesh, slipping on logs of bone and swimming through rivers of hateful blood. 

i just want the aftershock of the fall. when you can't feel anything yet but the vibrations of the thud, limbs wobbling from the dive you've taken half a second ago and you know the relief of pain will be monumental, freeing in its stark red,in the stars that it makes you see. you know you won't have to live in crushing anticipation anymore because you've at last gotten what was coming to you, every single searing hurt that you deserve. your dad was right when he said you don't care about life. he was correct when he said you don't care about anything. so then why did you cry when he wouldn't stop yelling at you? why did your knees buckle and your vision fog when he drove away an hour into your first parent's weekend?

i am so sick of disappointing myself and everyone around me.