splitposting

i wonder what comes out when i’m on the verge of splitting. if i am able to turn pain into art, or anything resembling it for that matter.

every bit of me hurts. and for a while, i just sit still.

tears run down to my legs and i don’t even move.

i circle the idea of life without me. how perfect is life without me. a gift i’m not allowed to earn.

or maybe i am.

but, for some, although life with me is far from ideal, my absence is definitely a burden. a burden i’m not strong enough to make them carry forever.

since i’m the last one standing who could do better without me.

everryone else is far gone.

nobody ever looked back.

i write the same lines i did so many years ago. (and i bet i will for so many more.)

life. without me. me. without life.

cause i can’t even turn pain into art. i can’t turn pain into peace either.

i gotta carry it around.

and even if i say i can’t.

if i shout i can’t anymore.

if i tell everyone i can’t.

will you believe it, really?

i bet nobody would at this point.

for, when i finally split, the other half of me is still me. and we are both weak and unable to do a good job.

so i do what i do better. i lie down and wait. i fall asleep dreaming of better days. i find a glimpse of hope, somewhere.

and i’ll be back, i bet, at this same spot, a few months from today. and again.