Broken is all I feel, all I know how to feel.
There’s so much to feel, but no space to feel it. So I guess I’d better not feel anything at all.
When words don’t match your actions, don’t match your feelings…what are you left with?
Say I’m fine, or worse…admit that I’m sad, continue to try to function on the outside…crash and burn and want to give up with every ounce of you on the inside.
Broken. Fucking. Feelings.
There’s no time to feel when the world is burning down around you. You don’t stand there, waiting for the flames to get you, to suck you in.
You just keep fucking going.
And that’s all I know how to do.
But then what? You’ve managed to escape the flames, got a little burned, sure, but you’re not dead…is it time to stop yet?
When are you safe?
When can you feel?
The smoke is in your lungs now…and you can’t outrun yourself. You’ve escaped the flames, but the damage has been done. The damage is within you.
And the denial of this damage does not negate its existence. As much as I run, try to convince myself that there is no pain, that there is no problem…
I can’t keep outrunning these lies.
But there’s no safe place to feel my feelings. I don’t even think I know how to.
I can’t stay in this broken body, this broken mind.
Broken minds don’t mend.
And mine is as broken as it gets.
I wish I knew how to feel.