Some days you can't feel fun.
No matter how funny something is, no matter how much you can remember that is was, you can't feel fun.
These days you are numb to mostly anything, wandering around the house like a zombie attacking the fridge for nibbles and floating to life wishing to wish to feel.
You can't even lie to yourself long enough to pretend you wanted to feel, you can't even start searching for why you don't. What you are blocking outside your skin.
Some days you can feel the building of pain across your chest, crushing it out of air... and you know that if you could only let a tear drop.
If only you could feel the tiniest connection to this world, the pull of its gravity to uncertain fall, the iciness of the wind's breath, the burning heat of the beaming sun, the cut of your feet soles walking heavily through the shattered glass of your existence.
If only you could release some of this rage, of this suffering, of this transparency, of this unexistency. of this meaningless thought... you could just breathe.
And like awaken from a drowning experience your lungs would spit the sharp cold water out cutting their way through your throat and frizzing air would rage in descending with fierce and brutality to the core of your being and you could be ripped from undeath with such violence you wouldn't stop leaking until the last drop of water in you had converted to blood or tear.
But it isn't easy to find this razor of souls, it isn't easy to want to feel, not when you know that so much devastation awaits on the other side of this thick glass.
And then a bird lifts off, you watch its wings beating gently in the breeze, not knowing what let your guard down or whether you wanted this little ray of sunshine to pierce but it is done. You are shattered into a million pieces and the healing begins. It will hurt so much more before it gets better, but you can feel and that shows you are alive and therefore capable of finding again that brief ray of sunshine, that slick moment of pure beauty that creeps at the corner of your eye all the time.
No matter how funny something is, no matter how much you can remember that is was, you can't feel fun.
These days you are numb to mostly anything, wandering around the house like a zombie attacking the fridge for nibbles and floating to life wishing to wish to feel.
You can't even lie to yourself long enough to pretend you wanted to feel, you can't even start searching for why you don't. What you are blocking outside your skin.
Some days you can feel the building of pain across your chest, crushing it out of air... and you know that if you could only let a tear drop.
If only you could feel the tiniest connection to this world, the pull of its gravity to uncertain fall, the iciness of the wind's breath, the burning heat of the beaming sun, the cut of your feet soles walking heavily through the shattered glass of your existence.
If only you could release some of this rage, of this suffering, of this transparency, of this unexistency. of this meaningless thought... you could just breathe.
And like awaken from a drowning experience your lungs would spit the sharp cold water out cutting their way through your throat and frizzing air would rage in descending with fierce and brutality to the core of your being and you could be ripped from undeath with such violence you wouldn't stop leaking until the last drop of water in you had converted to blood or tear.
But it isn't easy to find this razor of souls, it isn't easy to want to feel, not when you know that so much devastation awaits on the other side of this thick glass.
And then a bird lifts off, you watch its wings beating gently in the breeze, not knowing what let your guard down or whether you wanted this little ray of sunshine to pierce but it is done. You are shattered into a million pieces and the healing begins. It will hurt so much more before it gets better, but you can feel and that shows you are alive and therefore capable of finding again that brief ray of sunshine, that slick moment of pure beauty that creeps at the corner of your eye all the time.
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