I
don’t know what to do with myself. I hate nights like these. Empty.
Spoiled. Long. I am a child. And I can’t breathe. My brain
hurts. It’s not a headache. My brain is itchy and scratchy and
needs to be soothed and calmed.
Everything
feels wrong. My hands hold my head. I need comfort, but I don’t
know where to go, as if there was some place to turn.
I
get desperate. I need to go.
These
nights are the hardest to suffer. They make me ache like
nothing else can. The nights make me feel lonely and helpless and
vacuous. I need to feel complete.
The
voices in my head try to race to completion, as if there were a
finish line. Who can scream the loudest. Who can talk the fastest.
Don’t
you know how much this hurts. I’m not as strong as you think. I’m cracking. I’m breaking. You
refuse to see it.
I
don’t want to rescue myself anymore. For tonight, I need you to pick
me up off the ground, hold me and hug me, protect me, and make me
feel everything will be alright.
They are in my head right now. In
3-D. Coming at me. I can see them. They can see me.  I can hear them.  They won’t hear me.
Please
don’t be one of them.