Keeping It Real

Brace yourselves folks, another crappy mood has captured me. So before I go any further, I’m going to apologise for my lack of good writing recently and for the emotional shit that is about to poor off of my finger tips and onto this post.

tears drip drop. fingers twitch. lips quivers in the corners. eyes swell. brain somersaults, explodes, assaults me, runs marathons. eyes burst open, like dams. guts spill on floor. sadness stabs open wounds. pain, pain go away, come again another day. head bangs on walls. throw myself to the floor. stupid girl. stupid. im a stupid girl, in a stupid world. stop thinking like that. youll push him away. like the tears, hell get away. youre behind this steering wheel. but you cant stop a storm.

your’re paranoid. insecure. stop this madness. youre brewing this coffee. tap tap tap. his typing irritates. hide it well. hell get upset. but you know he knows. freezing room. too poor for money. too poor to complain. tears stop. this panic works differently. one two three one two three. heart attack. heart attack. one two three one two three. hope to god he doesnt realise. hope to god this doesnt push him away. hope to god your distrust doesnt get found. you know these women. these mechanical operations are hollow. transparent. theyll get your man if you aint careful. youll be offering him up on a platter. take him, half price now, my paranoia says.

I sit behind my laptop, unable to speak, unable to find the words for how I feel, why I feel. The tips of my fingers seem to know how I feel long before my mouth does. There is no direct path from brain to mouth. The train doesn’t reach that territory.


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