when you scream at a crowd but all you hear is a pin drop;
My worst nightmares happen on the weekends.
My worst moments happen in the middle of broad daylight.
My heart stops, my head spins, I feel my breath stop short. My eyes darken.
I feel knee deep in guilt, my arms gripping on to every tiny vine of hope I can hang onto,
that saves me from falling into my unknown, invisible abyss.
I think a lot.
But the danger comes, when one by one these thoughts like falling droplets of water,
fall and freeze into a confused and hazy state of permanence.
I feel the cold ice against my back sometimes.
You think,
When I yawn while I’m crying, it means I’m pretending to cry.
I’m not actually crying. I may be trying to force a feeling.
Who told you that was true?
That yawning while you cry means you’re shedding alligator tears?
Who told you that those feelings you were probably forcing out through the means of tears, were fake?
You think,
That all those auditions or interviews that you went for were a flop (which weren’t many in fact), means you were not destined to be a successful actor or singer.
Who told you that was true?
That those auditions and interviews were a sign from heaven?
That God doesn’t want you in those things? Maybe he wants you to try harder for them?
That those were some superstitious pre-cursor to your life?
You think,
That just because of the silly mistakes you’ve done in the past, means you’re not meant to fall in love like any other normal person? Meaning you’ll only attract weird people?
Who told you that was true?
That having done what you’ve done places such a curse on your life?
That other people have not made the same mistakes?
You think,
That just because of your inability to network, that you think it is a lowly thing to do, and your present state of not having known anyone of a higher status means you are cursed to be that.
Who told you that was true?
That shyness in itself was forever doomed to a life of normality and of social seclusion?
I wish I could scratch the demons out of my head.
I wish I could float into the air, still and unconscious, and just be.
Actually,
I really just wish, my body, my mind, and my heart could just give way.
Then maybe will actually realize,
That I’m not that strong.
That beyond this tall strong built, the deep rich voice, the clean cut presentation,
I have really have nothing to boast about.
And all that I am is crumbling.
I have created a well around myself.
Each brick is a mask I wear to everyone, everything, that enters and exits my life in my every waking moment.
I am now at the bottom of that well.
Almost as if to cry for help,
Would be like that fairy tale to everyone.
Even now, I feel like I can hear their voices,
Saying, ‘Oh you’ll be fine’, ‘You’re much stronger than that’, ‘Its all in your head’.
I wish I could silence those moving lips,
With a thick brush stroke of my blood.
Yes, that’s what everyone needs to see.
A nice thick stroke of blood.
Fresh with anger and repulsion.
