Human

Human. Isn't that what I am? I am not really sure anymore. These days I feel like nothing. I don't feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. I don't feel my heart beating. I don't even feel the knife cutting through my skin. The marks appear, and life is pumped through, yet I feel nothing.

I use to dance in the rain. Now I stand waiting for the lighting to strike.

You think you want to die, but in reality you just want to be saved.

I am only human, and I bleed when I fall down. Right?

There are words in my head, yet thousands of knives in my heart. 

All the pain and truth, I am wearing it like a battle wound. Fighting. I have pain and scars, I am broken and bruised. But I am not a warrior. I am just a girl who had to grow up too fast. 

I stopped checking for the monsters under my bed. Those never existed. The real monsters live with in me. Demons. Destructive. Vicious. Hateful. Beastly. There is no saving me. For how do you save someone from themselves. 

You can't.

Drowning in my tears. My heart is crying and no one seems to notice that my soul is slowly shattering into pieces. Crippled. Becoming paralyzed. 

I once thought I could fly. Soar through the clouds. and nothing would be able to touch me. But there is always something that will come and shoot you down. 

I don't know why they call it heartbreak when it feels like every other part of your body is broken too.

Broken.

Shattered.

Fractured.

Happiness. You are a memory that sneaks out of my eye, and rolls down my cheek.

I wish that you would return. But no, you are just a part that I play occasionally. It is never real. There is only the sting of pain that burns me under my skin. It runs through my veins, it runs with my blood.

I have spent hours folded in the pages of books. To escape. Immersed into different stories. Reading about their trials and hardships.

Then happily ever after.

But my story doesn't seem to end that way. It has turned out to be a tragedy.

I wish I wasn't afraid to let my feelings show. I wish I wasn't afraid to cry. Growing up crying always seemed to be the answer. Now that I am older crying seems to be the only option. I wish there was another way.

I hate to cry. Yet it is the only relief.

Crying is how your body speaks when your mouth can't explain the pain you feel.

Sooner or later I am going to wonder why I keep trying.

But for now I hold onto the eternal hope of happily ever after. 

To my humanity.