Who’s a Good Boy?

I have been left distraught.

Distracted so easily by this pain.

My life has become a perpetual state of suffering.

You would imagine I would get used to it by now – perhaps I have. Perhaps, that is the worst part of it all.

It is my masochistic friendship with this pain that pretends to be noble.

It is all a disguise.

I inflict more pain upon myself.

I just want to feel again. I just want to feel something.

I keep talking about this pain inside of me, except it’s a weighted, blunt expansion of the black mass in my chest. It pushes outwards in all directions. It is a force more than it is pain.

This force needs to stop its constant thrust – I have no energy to push back with.

I don’t collapse because it does not push me down.

It pushes out.

There’s a child inside my chest that can’t take the reality of this world anymore.

She just wants to come out. She is trying to propel open a hole in my chest, and escape. She tried to burn the hole – the heat inside is getting too much. It’s scorching me.

Her tiny hands are unbelievably strong. Like a newborn’s grip around her mother’s finger, she’s trying to climb out of my chest.

I don’t want her gone.

I know she’ll take my heart with her, like a bagpack swung over her shoulder by the aorta.

But the heat.

And the rage.

The anger makes me go blind.

I go blind with the anger.

I can no longer hear her screams.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Everything is burning but I am calm.

Last night was different though. Last night I could not control it.

I stood against the car, taking a drag of my cigarette breaking down in whimpers, like a little bitch after being run over by a car.

But when he came by, I beat him up.

I was so angry, I would have killed him.

In that moment, I wanted to kill.

Myself.

Other lives are valuable.

I made him cry.

Then I cried.

No wonder she said I emotionally abuse.

Because I feel too much and can’t make up my fucking mind.

Emotional expression is overrated.

But it is vital. For communication.

Breakdown.

Wag your tail.

Smile.

Fetch.

Roll over.

Play dead.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s