A Voice Calling Me Home

The silence is deafening.

I go to speak, but the words tangle and drown in my throat.

The things left unsaid are buried deep inside of me.

Without words, I still speak loud.

I speak on my arms, with my tears, and every time I take a drink.

I scream, but it's like screaming into a void.

A void full of emptiness. Full of nothing but a broken and lost soul.

It's hard to explain.

Because how can I feel everything, but also nothing at all?

I am here, but I'm not.

All of life's problems lay heavy on my shoulders.

They weigh me down with each breath.

Every breath more shallow than the last.

When I look out at the stars, I imagine what it would be like to join them.

I imagine the possibility of becoming one with the world again.

It's like I can hear a voice calling me home.

But I must resist.

So instead, here I am. Living. Breathing. Barely Existing.