i crossed my legs and relaxed my shoulders, rested my hands, clasped, on my lap and threw my head back and closed my eyes. My hair fell behind my ears and the weight of my dad's sunglasses recalibrated further higher up my nose. i focused on the warmth of the sun on my face, and it felt good. it felt glorious but only because i meant for it to feel that way. i think i may have felt beautiful for a second. and then i realised i was glad. i was glad and somewhat relieved i wasn't numb. i could feel. something else besides the disgusting shade of dissapointed longing, loneliness and worhtlesness for a change.
i took out my pen and wrote down the words, i am not numb. and thought i believed in nothing.
now i cannot possibly revel on the wonder our young lives hold, no matter how trully young and supposedly healthy in spirit we are.
i can just exist and i can allow everything else to exist around me as well.
and it all is still here. i am sad, and i am happy, and i am once more glad that i cannot put a label on my feelings. i am so tired. it's not a good exhaustion. it's just weakness, i am exhausted and beaten down, i can feel my body is broken and i hear my lungs rotting and my heart missing beats now and then.
my shoulders are uncontrollable and now i am shaking, and it hurts. it just hurts in the end.