Twisted Parts of a Rose Herself
Weeds implanted themselves and she did not tame them.
In a world where all things collide and intersect at various points, it should come to no surprise that there is confusion lying in between the cracks of a foundation supposedly supporting us.
Wake up: it's 7 AM. Hm. What is there to do besides just sit here? That's what I'll do. Should I think about everything bad that's ever happened or about how I'm alone? NO. But I do anyway.
Noon: The day goes on and I spend my time sitting around, not with, other people. I just remembered I "forgot" to take my meds again...interesting. I will do nothing about it and instead will continue typing away in a room full of strangers, all probably thinking I'm a hardworking human being while in fact I am not.
4:30 PM: I forgot everyone else has families, lives, responsibilities, and futures outside of campus. Watching everyone get into their cars and drive away to their "second jobs" at home is hurting my heart, as I continue walking up the hill and wondering where I went wrong to not have that "second job" at all.
Night: The darkness of the room is suffocating me and the only light coming in is from the crack underneath the door. I know this because I stare at it often, wondering if someday I may get the courage and strength to go outside of the door and talk to someone. Instead I only lay here and think. Think think think. Self-destruct.
The hope that tomorrow is better dwindles as each tomorrow comes and nothing changes. I ask myself the question: am I doing anything for it to change? And when that answer is "no" I cover myself with my blanket and make my own world become dark again.
As I lie within the four walls of my college dorm room, I am frequently reminded of the issues outside via frequent anxiety attacks. As the sun continues to set, I am reminded of the things I have not yet said. I have not opened up, I have chosen to keep it inside.
Maybe that is the problem: I have chosen this.
Frequent conversations with those I love most remind me that they believe that I myself am not broken beyond repair. I take those comments as motivation to break even more...I aspire to have them give up on me.
There is confusion lying between the intersection of choice and elements of pure existence.."the way things naturally are". Figurative question marks blind the outsiders as I try explaining that I don't want to be lonely, but I can't connect with others. Fog settles into their minds as I tell them I didn't choose to be sad, I woke up sad.
Maybe that is the way that this life is supposed to be.
I am a being made up of twisted, broken puzzle pieces unable to be placed back together. As I explain the hurt to others, they try putting me back together. They don't know it is impossible.
I am a being of mixed parts: one part choosing toxicity, one part choosing a new life. Both have their benefits and both have their consequences. As I try explaining, I know deep in my red, beating, bleeding heart that there is no longer a choice.
I used to be a rose, growing from these cracks just like Tupac once said. I was that rose until the weeds implanted and began growing inside of me, twisting together and outgrowing the space that is my shell.
Overgrowth suffocated the rose until it was no longer.
