different names for the same thing.

there are a thousand different ways you can define the act of breathing, or crying, or screaming, or just giving up, but there's only one way that I can tell you my lungs are being crushed and my ribs are splintering and my heart is becoming spasmodic and my limbs ache with the knowledge of how little impact I really have on the world


and
you
really
aren't
helping.





I'm spluttering, trying to inhale this stale oxygen, but
I'm turning blue and I really just need for this
blood to flow through these veins even when the
weather changes and the tempo of my existance is jolted;


I need stability
and reality,


but most of all, I need escape.



I need to believe that there's something more to life than just living for the sake of it, and watching bad things happen when they shouldn't, and listening to people pretending that it's all okay when really they're all cracked and broken inside the skin they wear everyday.





I am a complexity; a walking catastrophe.
I need more than this.
chalk on the sidewalk isn't enough to sustain me through good times,
and tissues and loneliness aren't enough to make me want to survive the bad ones.

you should be able to read me like a book,
but I'm written in another language
all full of codes and secrecy that you will never understand.



there are a thousand different ways for you to say that you care,










but sometimes words simply aren't enough.