Leftovers

I didn’t really feel like doing the prompt today. Most prompts I can somehow twist in a way to relate to how I’m feeling. But today’s just wasn’t happening, so I thought I’d post anyway about how I’m feeling inside. What can I say? I feel like shit, guys. I want a way out so badly. This endless tunnel. This blanket over my eyes. This feeling I can’t escape from. I bet you think I’m saying the same things every day but with the words rearranged. My posts do seem monotonous with a slow, sluggish rhythm of sadness. I’m done. I feel drained. I give a lot to people I care about. And I guess I’ve always cared a bit too much. A bit too much for my own good. But there’s no way to stop that; I’ll always be this way. This same level of sensitivity. This same depth of emotion. This same scar tissue. I feel so upset. I feel like I want to die. I really do want to die. If I could do it now, I would. But I can’t. I have responsibilities and I have people that care about me and I would never dream of hurting them. There’s a queasiness deep in the pit of my stomach. It’s there because I don’t know what is left – what is left of me. I am a remainder of everything that has happened. I am a wounded soul. I am so, so bruised inside, I can’t even tell you. All I want is to feel better. For just one day. That’s all I want. To feel complete again. Maybe I am asking for too much. Maybe happiness isn’t in my destiny. Maybe love isn’t meant for me. I give and people take. And then some. There’s nothing left.

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