I don’t know who I am anymore, and I mean that
In the most cheesy, that’s not my face
In the mirror way that you can think of.
I give myself pep-talks to do anything, god,
Fucking anything. I think it’s the end
That has me pressing the sabotage panic button
A la Frank Gallagher with a morphine drip.
I’ve steadily worked toward one thing- the peak,
The mountain top. Again, cheese it up here.
This is the mario kart finish line. Race over.
And then, what? Nobody tells you what happens.
I want to pump the brakes, pull my hair from its roots,
Let my dog die where he lays, scream into the ocean.
If there is a god, on which I’m undecided,
He enjoys a good show. Fuck, he better.
I have cried no less than 8 times today.
I’m not okay. Dammit why haven’t I told anyone that
I AM NOT FUCKING OKAY.
And I am telling you here and now
Because I can’t explain any of this. I’m trying
But I can’t seem to make my fingers move
The way I want them too. My brain, either.
When I write to you I’m honest.
I hope you take that as a compliment.
I won’t lie to you that you scare me, in good ways
And bad. I care about you, but I won’t
Take it further than this. Whatever this is
Right here.
Where I trust you with these little bits
Of my brain and I hope that you are well.