what it feels like

Driving in the car on my way to school, I hate the music playing. I skip until I find a song that I like, but weirdly I hate all of these songs. Dangerously, cigarette in one hand phone in the other. You should pay attention to the road and stop being an emo bitch. I start to tease myself as I argue with a nonexistent mirror. I decided that I needed to get along to proceed in my day. My Chemical Romance is blasting at full volume, my window is down. I am screaming the lyrics, I thought MCR was annoying earlier. Yesterday I only listened to pretentious indie tunes that burnt my ears. My constant inner conflict is growing old, I want to be truthful. But I’m not one person, I wish I was consistent. I want to open up to the people I love, but I don’t even know how to put it into words. My metaphors are failing, nobody will decipher the thoughts I’m scared to say. My mouth is closed by facets of myself telling me it’s unsafe. I’m still slowly piecing my past together, why did this happen to me? Why have I lost so much of my senses, my taste, my inner eye, and my inner voice? I’m left with vague feelings as memories, all I can remember is if I was there. I can tell when I wasn’t, I can tell when she was there. All I can do about it is obsess, why did I do that? Was this memory mine? Is that the same glimmer in my eyes? Well of course, they’re all photos of me, but sometimes they’re not. Sometimes she’s someone else. I don’t remember last year besides November. Only small fragments. My entire year condensed to a few fragments of misery. Sitting on the porch, looking at a pair of lemur round eyes, trying to scream into them. Alas, my eyes jetted away when theirs met mine, I screamed at my body in a silent fury. Only being able to fill my head with impulsive suicidal thoughts, trying to break free. When I dreamt of freedom, I saw myself as a ghost more than a human. It took me a long time to accept that I was alive and well. I don’t know how to be human, I can only speak through ways that no one can hear. My inner world is a place of darkness and emptiness. But at least I can breathe, I can be human. I don’t need to exist in the shadows anymore. Even if I can’t express it to others, I know what’s going on. I need to accept that my friends love me, not just an idea of me. I’m not the same as her, but I cannot speak other than her. I want to, but she won’t let me.