They say that if you tilt your head back, the tears won’t come.
I tried it.
It’s not true!
Has been hard to write lately. My head is full. My brain is tired. My eyes hurt. My heart is heavy and constantly throbbing.
The words are there. They are numerous. But they are mainly sadness.
The words are there. They are numerous. But they seem reluctant to flow through my pen.
Instead they are forming as tears. Silent ones. But strong and long lasting, and painful and tiring tears flowing through my eyes.
Instead they are forming as anxiety and manifesting in attacks.
Instead they are forming as sadness and just the required amount to function.
Instead they are forming as pain, that is so strong that I can’t even scream.
This drinking thing maybe genetic.
Because the words are also forming as a constant desire to drink until I am completely numb. So numb that I can no longer stand, or sit, or feel, or hear myself or the words.
Just want 5 minutes away from myself. 5 minutes detached from my heart. 5 minutes off of overthinking, over analysing, over feeling! Everything.
Loneliness is a motherfucker!
I think it’s obsessed with me.
It pats my stress and negative thoughts , and self depreciation on the back and seduces my willing tears out of me.
It is determined to stifle my words so as to full stop my progress.
It constantly whispers paranoia and self doubt and visual self dislike, and focus on bodily hang ups, and unattractiveness into every corner of this house, into every feeling felt, into every thought processed, into many a word said.
It pushes my head down so that the tears are able to flow easily.
It ensures that the tears are able to flow regardless of the angle that my head may rest.
It makes fun of my un pretty feet. It tells me that they are so disgusting that they are not suitable for shoulders.
It looks scornfully at my smaller than most black girls these days frame. It tells me that because of it, I am not, and will not be desirable by black men. It tells me that no matter how much I tell myself that I AM SEXY, JUST BECAUSE I AM ME, that I am deceiving myself, I am not sexy with no ass to shake.
It reminds me that I belong to it.
Loneliness is a motherfucker and I think that it is obsessed with me.
It bounces of of every wall and reflects in every shadow.
It has indoctrinated me.
It makes me see fat in the mirror and feel it within, whilst because it’s fucking with me, it incites me to eat so that I can later feel guilty.
It tells me that I am fat and ugly, I have horrible feet and I walk bad, that I will be forever single because it doesn’t matter that I am a good person within, that I am love, that I can cook, that I will make him my king, I am fat and I am ugly and have horrible feet and I walk bad, and I am ugly and I have horrible feet that are not suitable for shoulders and I have no ass to shake, so ,
No man will ever want me!
It is hellbent on blackening my heart. Loneliness is obsessed with me.
In a room full of people, it still latches onto me. Reminding me that I belong to it and it to me.
Wrapping itself around me, inveigling me.
If for a split second I break free, I can always feel it, profiling me.
Blocking my light.
Loneliness is obsessed with me.
Loneliness is a motherfucker!
It is obsessed with me.
© KLove 2014