Help! Help me! I'm trapped. I'm trapped, as my life is mapped — mapped out that is! A naive me, trying to figure this crap out. That's how I felt as the kid version of me didn't even want to live. My mental state is having the world's biggest disaster! I'm blown away from my experience, shaking from my anxiety while hurricanes drop down from my eyes as everything adds up and subtracts me from reality. It divides me into the people who've been haunted. It multiplies more flashbacks as — I've lost count of the amount of pain I've gone through. In the possession of depression.
Life lessons 101, class is in session! Hurt, is my teacher. Damn, I hate her but she knows what she's doing. This is no news. But, I'm shocked that I'm here today! Thinking of even standing a chance with the silent killer sounds impossible. Even a puppet has its owner abandon them at some point while the devil keeps grabbing me. Wait — so what the bloody hell am I?
Nobody! I'm a nobody? I am a nobody! My eyes are beaten, they don't want to see anybody as I'm a homebody. My doordash driver could just leave the food on the steps. Before going to and meeting them for love at first sight was my style. The food only gives so much relief as my whole body is filled with pain, anger, and confusion. Being free seems like a delusion. I'm losing, bad.
It took me twenty two years to realize that I was never "mature for my age" as a child. I was just too scared to be myself! There's plenty that have felt this way, or still do! I was scared to even come "home". Well, it was toxic so what do you expect? I'm forbidden to be comfortable in my own skin! I was hurt and not heard. I was noticed but not seen! Every year feels like a scene — from a hit horror film! People are watching my every step! The world is against me! They're after me.
I've never felt comfortable with people, or in general! Being alone is one of the best feelings. This is based on my desire. A walk around the block feels like a walk in the Big Apple. Just another worm trying to get a bite out of life! Training myself to stay alive……..but why! Fine! Let me see what's gonna happen…….. if anything gets somewhat better…...or not! To hell, I'm with whatever. Tumbleweed is my middle name.
Nobody understands me — it's very rare somebody has. I've never had a pet growing up, but I've always felt like I've had a raven on my shoulder. In addition to growing older, the raven's color has gotten bolder. Life, was getting colder. Bad luck was just running towards me, assaulting me. If I'd have won the lottery, people still wouldn't give me the money. Yup, welcome to my life.
Karma! I told her — to go to hell as she visits me daily. Honestly, screw everybody! I sincerely apologize to every toxic person for not being like the other children frequently being compared to in the past. I'm sorry if I don't want to interact with people and become a jolly, fake, naive outgoing teenager! Let's talk about now. How could I be comfortable in this generation? The generation needs a regeneration! Everything makes no sense! People, I hate them. Never did like them one bit.
Was it the backstabbers in my life that made me paranoid, the vicious predators who have made furious, a toxic, evil, burning society that makes the hair on the back of my neck jump, or a jammed system that makes me crawl out of my skin and out of touch with reality as well? Bells! There's too many bells ringing as the amount of points I have backs me up. Writing — there you are! Take me away from this "home" on Earth. I need my damn space! Far, far, and far away.
Too much negativity being spreaded, too much bull crap forming into piles, beyond a massive amount of racism, and just — ahhhhhhhh! We need a list of just the categories to point out. Is my zip code going to get me looked at the other way during a potential life changing opportunity? Hmmm…...are my dreadlocks going to cut me off from advancing faster than I'm forced to actually cut them off? Am I not being masculine enough by writing my emotions to seek approval from a horrible society? If only I could curse during this writing prompt. It's very tempting.
Uncomfortable in my own skin. I'm denied access. Or maybe pending? Hopefully, this is temporary. I do want to be a better me, but my depression is tying me up as nothing seems to matter. Sadder, it gets. Like thinking about life too long. It's really a short experience, at least that's what the people say. I've been dead. A zombie in a human apocalypse (ha).
Writing is one of the few things I will relate to. Forever and ever, as my coping skill has made me — better! Everybody has a different reason for the things they want to do, or already do. Anger is the powerful fuel that could go either way. It's my job to not end up behind bars. I'd rather be in front of an editor starting progress.
Yes, I've always had to fight these demons in my head. Yes, I've never had the best household. But let me try to join a community where mental health is the priority. My goal is make a big impact in the literary world as my years of being silent are going to pay off. To hell with society as their evil ways must not win the fight in me. I shouldn't even worry about finding myself, rather creating. Creating a home for myself is the only thing worth fighting with. I am satisfied by the thought of being comfortable in my own skin. I shouldn't be forbidden from myself or from being myself. Sorry not so sorry.
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