There might be daylight outside;
But all I can see is darkness.
A never ending abyss where I am expected to place one foot in front of the other–
But I keep tripping.
I’ve stumbled too many times.
My feet are cracked and broken.
I’m on my knees.
Reaching, reaching, reaching…
There is no hand for me to grab hold.
No comfort. No solitude. No voice on the other end of the phone line.
How did I get this way?
It hurts to breathe…
Drowning in my own tears.
“Fake it, til you make it,” they tell me.
But I’m no actress.
There are no awards for enduring. For surviving. For not giving into the darkness.
It could be so easy…to fall asleep and never wake up.
But my stubbornness shakes me every morning and paints a smile on my face.
I tell myself that the Phoenix never dies.
But that isn’t true.
The Phoenix can only be reborn after it combusts…
So how many times do I need to die internally before I can fly?
My wings are broken, my feathers crumpled, my song in disarray.
The Hurricane quakes within my chest–I could explode at any moment.
I am terrified of who or what that might look like.
Without a doubt, I am alone in this plight.
What are friends? What’s a family?
These are things no longer in my possession.
It’s painfully black–this darkness.
It’s as if the sun is constantly setting and I can’t do anything to make sense of time.