I Wish I Was

I can’t shake the feeling like my heart is ripping. There is a physical weight inside my chest. I feel a sort of heavy sadness, a horrible pulling down and apart. Like pulling on a piece of taffy but instead of taffy it’s my anatomical heart representing my emotional heart and the gushing veins are my bleeding emotions. I hate when sadness is a physical pain you genuinely feel. It’s distracting and overwhelming. I’d rather be dead inside than feel the physical weight of my emotional pain. It fucking hurts, yo.

If I think about it my eyes well up with that old classic betrayal water. What is there to be sad about? Why does my heart insist that something is wrong with me? Xanax doesn’t touch this deep abyss of heart break, which is total bullshit. 

Hey Xanax, fuck you. You fucking suck. Hashtag ihateyou.

I should be riding that colorless cloud of zero fucks to give, but I’m not. I can feel my foolish and ridiculous dream dying inside me and it hurts like a stupid bitch. Because that’s what I am. Sigh. Pathetic rant pity party officially over.

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