To feel unseen in a world full of eyes

      The longing to be seen with depth, spoken to with depth, touched and embraced with depth, and understood with depth. And, by the same token, to view the morning sunlight and the indefatigable passing of time with depth; to look at my reddish, stinging wrists and ask what kind of beauty could be found in a dozen cuts; to speak in a cheerful tongue that doesn’t bleed; to have the ability to move with bouncy, unafraid feet. With teary eyes closed, I imagined a life in which I do not hurt so terribly; where I had petals in bloom and not a stadium of thorns; where I had it in me to talk without sobbing; where I was unabashed and courageous enough to look at someone in the eye and tell them how I feel, what I think; to make an auspicious attempt to explain why it’s so dark everywhere I go even if all the lights are on. 

It’s maddening how no words are ever sufficient to cover my pain. In all ways, I am in great suffering, but I could not tell you why exactly. It’s a thought so crestfallen and shattering: to feel that I will never heal from the things I do not speak about—and even from those which I cannot search the right words for. I used to be appalled at going to hell, and in moments of desolation that fear still reignites, only I have long realized that perhaps I’ve been in hell all along. I have been burning in my own skin and I just couldn’t scream. The universe seems to be oblivious of my woes and wails, and why would it be bothered anyway? How loud am I to be heard by galaxies millions of light years away? How loud should I be to be heard by those beside me? 

The ever-growing desire for evanescence, to vanish in the midst of existential horrors, to disappear in the chaotic destruction of it all. Oh, to become nothing, nothing at all. Where do you seek the words to painfully confess that you do not want and cannot stay any longer? How do you tell you’ve been wishing to be gone every night as gentle as you can? Could one be so kind and so hurtful at the same time? I have never been so cruel to anyone as I have been to myself. It’s a shame.