Tell me what’s worse than this
“Lydia” by Highly Suspect is my theme song at the moment. This song screams in my head. It’s haunting and slightly dark. My frustrations are many and my patience has grown thin. I’m exhausted. I’m angry. I shouldn’t be angry.
I can’t believe
I can’t write anymore. The words have left me. None of this makes sense to me. I’m angry that I can’t turn my feelings into meaning anymore. My exhaustion comes from caring for others. It’s draining to give so much of yourself. I chose this. I quickly realized that I need to get back what I give out. It is emotionally exhausting to be kind all the time.
But at my best, I am the worst
I am giving it my all. I’m pushing through the pain. I’m running on empty. I keep moving because people depend on me. Then I realize I’m giving myself too much credit. I am not solely responsible for everything. I don’t make a difference. I am only one person. I don’t matter in the scheme of things. It’s all for nothing. Nobody cares what I do.
Your Eyes Are Lined In Pain
My eyes tell the tale. I can’t hide anything. If you want to know something just look at them and you will know if something is wrong. Lately the story my eyes tell is one of fatigue. The story is full of self doubt and guilt. My eyes are sad because I don’t have much time with my kids. They are growing up while I’m at work. I miss them. My eyes seem empty because I have nothing left to give. I give everything of myself to others. Those dark circles and bags some people like to make fun are a lack of sleep and a whole lot of worry. I don’t need eyeliner since my eyes are lined in pain and black tears don’t hide in rain.
I Can’t Breathe
I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t breathe. The nightmares are crippling. I can’t go back to sleep. I leave the light on. I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m afraid of what the dark brings. My chest is tight all the time from constant worry. I just can’t stop. I worry about everything. I wonder why nothing I do will ever be good enough for some people. I’m too hard on myself. It’s brutal. So I push on. I let it build. This goes on for days and days. It gets harder and harder to cope with everyday. I try to smile. I push it back and keep moving. I work sick. I work on 3-5 hours of sleep. Sometimes I don’t eat. Then I get hangry. I’m really sorry if I’ve come at you when I’m hangry. It can get ugly. It keeps building until I can’t take it anymore and I lose my religion.
I CAN’T FLIPPING BREATHE
I am compelled to yell this part of the song. It helps me release my pent up aggression. I guess the point of this whole piece is that I carry way too much. I need to talk more. I have such a hard time getting this out of my system. It’s stupid because I feel better once it is out. Maybe I will sleep tonight since I confessed my sins. I can dream.