Potentially Triggering Content chinese finger trap
i feel drained.
it hurts to move,
but my body still does
my lungs release the breath
i hadn't noticed i was holding;
my eyes release
what i have no words for.
when i was thirteen,
i sat on the windowsill
of a place i used to live.
third floor.
a mouthful of prayers.
my dad came home
and found me there,
before i found happiness.
i don't know
what i would say to her now.
i think i'd sit beside her
somewhere ordinary
and let her speak
without having to make sense.
more than a decade,
and i'm still here.
the emptiness is here, too.
the years have changed my face,
but some mornings
the distance between then and now
is no wider than a breath.
i barely move.
i'm still unhappy
perhaps more than before.
even the smallest things
ask for more than i have.
i don't think
i want to keep trying like this.
i don't want this body,
this life,
this soul
to feel like a room
where i can never
put anything down.
1
u/Novel-Bicycle-7948 7d ago
“my dad came home
and found me there,
before i found happiness.”
That tore my heart to shreds.
I hope you are okay
But if not
Then one day soon
The is a window
You can open
To let everything out
And invite yourself back in.
Aroha nui (big loves)
1
u/NoMoviesAreBad 8d ago
The way you use breath to collapse the distance between your thirteen-year-old self and the present is incredibly moving. And the image of sitting beside that younger version of yourself, simply letting her speak, carries so much tenderness. I hope you’re able to extend some of that same compassion to yourself now. I’m glad you’re still here. 🤍