you do not exist forever

i am damned, condemned by my god to the hell that is my bed. condemned, bounded, by no one else but myself. does that make me god? all this power that i possess, i use to restrain. i watch the flies around me, begging me for something i cannot give them, begging me to die, but i haven't lost my ability to get up. for as long as i am capable, i cannot be dead, but the flies know i am waste.

i don't actually know how to feel, but i pretend i do, and how!

my dog bites. when he is overwhelmed with emotion and no one heeds his warnings, he bites. when he is in pain and becomes irritated, he bites. they say he is a bad dog. when he bit someone really bad, i watched my mom cry because she was scared that we would have to put him down. i cried too. i was scared too. it's not his fault that he bites. he does not know what else to do.  he bit me once. when things go bad, i think he can tell. in an unspoken language, we can understand each other. he is my best friend. my canine teeth didn't grow in properly. i didn't bite. instead, i screamed, kicked, and scratched. when i am overwhelmed with sadness or frustration and no one cares, i lose it. when i am stressed and become irritated, i lose it. they say i am angry. when i was on a plane with my dad, i got mad and scratched his finger. i drew blood. barely any, but i felt horrible. so, i bit my knuckles to try to get myself to bleed, too. my dad told me to stop and said he was okay. ...

today was a long day. it started slowly in a sunny haze that was lighting up the steam that rose from my cup of tea. then came movement. out of my home, into the warm car, stop at the next home, into the warm car, back to the old home. "home is where the heart is", which explains the inconsistency in my emotional regulation, i suppose. after that was rush to get ready and become a different version of myself. it was followed by the slow lull of realization that i had three hours to spare. the sun set, now, and a gentle breeze ran through the rolled-down windows and landed in my frizzy hair. the breeze slowed as the car did, and i, alone, entered a group. inside, it was loud, but i stayed quiet. i felt how cold it was on my skin, for every time i spoke, the warmth of my words sizzled away into the icy air. then, it was night. a familiar gentle breeze, accompanied by a nostalgic view of dark streets lit by dim streetlights, ran again and landed again with me. now, it is late. i...

there's a kind of feeling that i get when it rains . it's nearly indescribable. irregardless, i could try. i think i end up feeling like i'm some kind of intruder. i'm not a part of this world anymore. i start to feel like i never woke up, like i'm still in a dream. i'm not a real person anymore. i  feel like all of my life has slipped away, and i got left behind in a state in between consciousness and nothingness. i feel like i'm entirely alone, wandering in a state between life and death. nothing around me is tangible anymore. then, i wonder if it ever was. i t's as if the rain was pouring down on my own senses, washing them away with each heavy drop of water. they trickled down and disappeared into the world that i could not feel. i'm still here, though. stay good.

hello. i am losing my mind.  it has been so long since i've been able to formulate words in any sort of eloquent or articulate manner.  oops. stay good.

     It was warm outside, but the air inside of this building was frigid. One day before, I was far away from this building, surrounded by a gentle breeze, and within a still sunlit evening. I had walked through the miniature forest that lived in my backyard. Tall dandelion trees and tall grass blades brushed against the sides of my shoes every step I took. There were clover bushes and clover flowers at the bases of the other weeds that stretched to the sky. It was so warm that it had felt like the sky was melting and blending into all the different colors of the earth and the atmosphere, melting and blending into me. So, I kept walking.      Forward upon the path that I took, there were grand trees with green, fresh leaves, which had come out of hiding so recently. Everything around me was so bright. It was six in the evening, but the sun shone strongly. The farther I had traveled, the heavier the sky became. The warmth of it kept sinking down so that it c...

Recently, I looked back at pictures of myself from fifth grade. When I was little, like 10ish years old, maybe, my mom gifted me this Coca-Cola chapstick. I put it on, and a week or so after wearing it regularly, the skin on my upper and lower lips got really badly dry and began to hurt. Granted, this issue with my skin may not have been from the chapstick at all, but from my constant licking my lips as if I were some idiot gecko or something. However, this idea I denied, and blamed it all on the chapstick to spare myself from such embarrassment. Whatever the cause, though, I was now plagued with a horrible dark ring around my mouth. I remember that I was over at my family friends' house one day, and they had a little girl who must have been 3 or 4 years old at this point. She looked up at me and said, "Wow, you have a mustache!" At first, I thought she was just talking about the baby hairs that everyone has on their upper lips, so I told her that she had little hairs, to...

i must have been mold in some odd, past life. one must have left me behind to be forgotten, to grow old. you must have been a tree in some odd, past life. as your branches twist and wind, they leave you alone to be free. you reached for the sky, for the sun, for the clouds. from them, you yearned for a kindness that was warm. but they only ever rained down on you in a heavy storm. they broke you down with this, and you drowned. with the gust of a mean wind, your branches shake and twist and bend. your long life comes to a halting end. trunks fall to the ground with heavy limbs. we were never meant to stay alive. so when you finally passed, you decayed quite fast. the only thing left for you was rot when you died. sit there and allow yourself to decompose. let the world around you start to eat. your fragile shell lay there in the heat, and it was then that the mold rose. a dead log became alive once again, covered with moss and bugs and fungus. there they all lived, together in their on...

lock yourself in your room and let the faucet of your mouth leak words upon a screen just like your absorbent eyes squeeze your soap tears from their mascara stained water. and maybe you tried to repair the faucet: tighten the screws tighten the nuts tighten the bolts. but each time you got close to fixing it, someone needed to wash the dishes. again came undone: the screws the nuts the bolts. and so, the rough sponge stung your eyes, dripped water and streaks of soap were left on the dirty dishes. open the door. out you came, just to dry off, but the water soaked your clothes and it stuck to your arms and it stuck to your face and it stuck to your torso. and so, you dragged yourself, helplessly, to the kitchen. there stood the heart of the house. "drink some water, it will make you feel better." but the leaky faucet served water from the well, and screw it, because it tasted just like metal. no one cared to change its filter, no one that could. no one paid attention to its s...