There Is A Hopelessness In My Chest , A Weightless, Heavy Thing No One Can See.
There is a hopelessness in my chest , a weightless, heavy thing no one can see.
I used to feel shock at the word ‘suicide’ wondering how someone could truly end it all. The one telling others things get better.. but humans are naturally designed to fight to stay alive..I know this because when I stood at the edge, I was held back by the smallest hope for life. But now I don’t wonder anymore… hope is a gift not everyone gets to keep. Some of us are just left with an emptiness where hope used to be. They say ‘’hold on it gets better” sound familiar? But they never tell you how heavy hope can feel in hands that have already been holding on for so long.
Truth is, it NEVER GETS BETTER , people just like to drill some type of encouragement or hope inside you like when you are young and your parents used to tell you , “”if we don’t punish you, you won’t learn for next time” truth is it wouldn’t make any difference the next time but it sure made mommy and daddy feel powerful. Or “God is good he will look over you” we’ll turn off your favorite movie and look at the news or “” money doesn’t buy happiness/money doesn’t matter”” yeah only if you have all powerful giants giving you everything for free. Truth is , we have been living a lie from day one… it’s ok though.. after all it always gets better….
More Posts from Invisiblynumb and Others
Loving me is like watering a dead flower…
I wanted to be loved, but not like this.
Not like a lighthouse watching ships, that never dock.💔
When I say that I am afraid of being my father or making mother’s mistakes , I am greeted with the old saying , the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as if I am destined to be just like them solely because I am a product of them. I want to tell them that the apple can roll away. That it can hit the ground running and drift away with the creeks stream. That it can be picked up by gentle hands and placed somewhere different , a better place where the apple is polished and admired and painted like its art. The apple still did come from the tree, they’ll argue.
But it can feel different , be different.
The apple doesn’t have to go far in order to be nothing like the rest of the tree. My exterior may look like theirs but I am not filled with their rot.
