In my genes I have my father's depression and my mother's anxiety. These diseases blend together the way my parents did, unevenly. At times I am overwhelmingly happy around beautiful people and other times I am as ugly as I feel. When I am ugly, it is called expressionlessness.
Like my father, depression cuts into me slowly like knives that are sharpened to get the point across or an endless ether of unfulfilled relationships with people I cannot trust, no matter how much I may want to. It's a quiet sort of sadness on my father's face that won't leave mine alone, silent acceptance to seem less unbecoming. I share varicose veins and I plan to leave this world the same way I came into it, screaming out of irritability, for the sole sake of irritability and nothing else.
As for my mother, we are both anxious messes and as a result are manipulative people. I cannot let anyone live their life unless I specifically know how they are living their life. I so deeply engrave myself into the air bubble of the lives of those I love and I take and take and take and take until there is no more oxygen, ultimately suffocating love for a quieter space. I share eating habits and a distraught sense of self due to both of us being abused at young age by someone we didn't know well enough. Never fully in moments, hours will pass like seconds and simultaneously we will complain about all we have to do.
But nothing will ever finish. We will always be the same people, meant to spend our lives repeating the same mistakes and falsely labeling it as growth.
I am the blend. I have expressionlessness.
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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