The warm oblivion
slowly courses its way through the pipeline of my life,
taking me away from the worry, the stress which threatens to drown me.
Why do I seek the escape?
Why do I run instead of facing the dark reality around me?
I’m long past caring, long past trying to appear as a normal imprint in this
cruel, cold world.
Whoever said the pattern was to keep up with the Jones or to lead the life of a sheep
I am no sheep.
I am not a faceless nobody forced to confirm to societal rules;
weak, vulnerable, a shell of myself.
I’m an original, the mistress of my own destiny, the collective that is me.
So don’t judge me for seeking an escape from the burdens weighing me down.
Don’t you dare judge me.
Instead see the real me,
the scared little girl, the woman wallowing in a deep sea of grief.
See the pain, see the emptiness I’m trying to escape.
I’m learning to stand tall.