a blank white page and a swelling rage

i want to feel something, please.
oh god, please.
what happened to my emotions?
i don’t know. i want them back.
today i should be happy. i don’t remember ever being happy. i know i was…
but tell me; remind me; what does happy feel like?
i need to be re-taught.

i wish i knew how to ask for help.

i hate this.

——–
a white blank page and a swelling rage
I don’t know how to handle the way the music makes me feel. I don’t even know how it makes me feel. all at once, I want to breakdown and cry.
I want to scream.
I want to dissolve into nothingness.
I want to see my best friend.
I want to lock myself in a room with the music too loud.
I want to sing it as loudly as I can.

I cannot get enough. I cannot stop the feelings. stop the addiction.

screw society. All I can do is sit quietly and listen.
But how the hell is that satisfying? it’s simply not.

I want, I need, someone to push me up against a wall at the apex of the song. I do not know how to handle how good it is.

I am lost to the night I first heard the music, holding her hand, unaware of what was to come. I want her back like that. I want the night to go away.
was it worth it? of course it was worth it.
was it worth it? of course it wasn’t.

why do i have to be so fucking mysterious? I think this is moving to my own journal and I can’t fucking be honest. I can’t fucking be anything. I don’t know how to do normal shit anymore.
I don’t
I don’t even know

I listen over and over and I do not understand, I do not understand.
why do i keep listening? I am not a masochist in this way.
it’s beautiful, of course it’s beautiful, but all I want to do now is curl up in bed, smaller, smaller, until I do not exist.
it would be nice to disappear for a while.

I don’t know what to say to myself.

it’s lively, and I want  to get away from it. it drives me crazy and I cannot stop & I do not understand.

I do not think it is the song. I do not believe in such power. i think it’s me, only me. only my melodramatic fucking bullshit.

because there’s a tinge of self loathing. in all of this, a tinge
i try to decide.

i did not allow for depression in my calendar. there is not time. but i don’t even know if that’s what this is. i don’t want to cry, but i want to cry for release.
i almost think i need a breakdown. But god i do not want one. i just don’t know how to function without one.
how do i actually live, how do i face my life?
stop, stop, stop, go back to the gentle, the slow. i am not loud, i am not fast and therefore you can’t be either.
oh please, don’t cry, you liar.
it’s not even just one song. it’s all of them, it’s everything i hear as i overdramatize, make my life interesting. am i lying?
when i cry it does not feel like lying.
but now, it feels like lying.
who gave me permission to be sad? i’m not even sad enough to warrant help from someone (anyone, oh god please).