.
Feeling lost. Wanting to remain strong but buckling from within. Tired, used up and worn out. Feeling the age beyond my years, and wanting so desperately to find the energy that I need to push forward.
Reaching out and missing my mark, touching air, thick and sticky beneath my fingertips. It chokes my nose and throat with its depressive smear, blinding my eyes. It is dense, and screams with volatility. The cry is deafening. Mine would be too if I could but cry, but Im too scared to. How can I see through it when I don’t know what is on the other side? How can I aim for the light when I don’t know if it is the light I want?
Where is my stewardess? Waving her perfectly manicured hands to show me the neon lights that glow along the path to my exit. I can’t see the path, it is no longer where it once was. But it seems that everyone else can... Because they’ve already gone.
Why do they know how to exit? Why can they see through the mist? No, no wait. The smog. The all encompassing and noxious smog. It poisons me and as the days pass it tears small pieces from me, and I’m buckling from within.
Tired.
Used Up.
Worn Out.
Reaching out and missing my mark, touching air, thick and sticky beneath my fingertips. It chokes my nose and throat with its depressive smear, blinding my eyes. It is dense, and screams with volatility. The cry is deafening. Mine would be too if I could but cry, but Im too scared to. How can I see through it when I don’t know what is on the other side? How can I aim for the light when I don’t know if it is the light I want?
Where is my stewardess? Waving her perfectly manicured hands to show me the neon lights that glow along the path to my exit. I can’t see the path, it is no longer where it once was. But it seems that everyone else can... Because they’ve already gone.
Why do they know how to exit? Why can they see through the mist? No, no wait. The smog. The all encompassing and noxious smog. It poisons me and as the days pass it tears small pieces from me, and I’m buckling from within.
Tired.
Used Up.
Worn Out.
.
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