There is a pain in the comfort
of silence
of forced waiting
of being able to think clearly
of being able to know who I am
because I know it never can last
There is a pain in the comfort of trying and failing and that being okay
because I never can try
never
never
never
it's always just a lie
there is a pain
a pain
a pain
a pain
a true literal migraine
in the exhaustion
no
the lack of exhaustion
of being able to say this
because usually I can't
because usually you are too worried about what I say and how I say it and if I say the right words
and it doesn't matter how much anyone says
i
can't
fight
that
because there is a child in me who doesn't know anything else
there is me not knowing if i want to cry
or if there's me having so much less overwhelm that i can manage without a meltdown
because it doesn't matter that people aren't understanding my body
when they don't listen to my words anyways
so maybe let words at least be something i can control
rather than something so out of control that i don't understand that either
in a spiraling cacophony that is the world
and my body
and my mind
and everything in it
and nobody bothering to care
when you aren't going to listen why does it bother how i say the words
shouldn't i at least get to say the words i want
oh, no
sorry
it only matters how i say them not what i say
there is a pain
because
no matter
how
many
times
i know
that i can live like this
and understand myself
it will never last
it only takes one little drop
because even now, years later
i will never
actually
truly have control
of my own words
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