a daydream type of nightmare

My heart feels concaved in my chest. A hollowed out melon that beats in tune with an unsteady drum. The sad slurpie has creeped under my door and I am drowned in its deceptive sweetness.

I feel like I’ve been betraying my heart for so long that I’m not sure what it looks like, let alone what it needs. To drown in ones own sorrow and heartache may be the greatest pain. At least I believe it to be the loneliest. To love someone with a broken heart feels to me like one of the most confusing and exhausting, terrifying, yet enticing adventures. It has led me to the house of shatters, where smashed glass lines the floor and tears have painted the walls in a smattering of anger and loneliness.

My confident independence used to be my greatest strength. My unwillingness to settle for something or someone that doesn’t make me feel alive. And now I feel I’m living through the holes of myself. A shell of what once was. And anger boils in my chest, not at the ones who’ve damaged me, but at myself. You were so silent, you were so passive to your own heart. A dream you desperately willed into euphoria morphed into a horrific nightmare, as you stood mounted to the floor by your own fear. Daydream some more, sweet one.