woes of a dramatic

i feel
it’s not just the lovely ones, you know.
i feel burning BUBBLING rage that blinds me, truly.
i feel unbearable sorrow from a fleeting thought. it can weigh me down for hours. suffocate me to silence.
i feel despair and despondence together in a melody of vast nothingness
that sucks the life and energy and worthiness out of everything i believe i can do. and i cannot.
jealousy at every interaction, joy that flitters and flutters sickly in conversation, laughter so pure and lithely that the world seems so beautiful i am invincible. and i am not.
i cannot listen to songs or rewatch old movies or revel in nostalgia. i cannot think of passed loved ones or broken friendships. it breaks me.
talking is like a bucket brigade for a star.
(don’t worry.
i’m not yet lost enough to think i am a star.)


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