It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, how hard I’m cleaning, or sorting. It doesn’t matter how many times I walk up and down stairs, or when I water or tend the plants. Those waves. Those deep soul waves of sadness wash over my whole body.
I’m not crying but I feel like I should be. Tears must be still in reverse. My heart pauses for a moment. It sends a tremble in my arms and throat. A wave of sadness.
Why should someone so messed up crave something they’re not ready for? Love. I wish the heart would stop craving that it just doesn’t realize it cannot get in another. I’ve given to it what I’ve had and I’m tired of trying. It sends out a stronger wave of sadness.
A wave that should make me cry. Tears must still be in reverse. There is nothing I can no longer do, but be here day by day. Stop bothering me. It sends out an aching wave of sadness.
If I were younger sure I’d act on such a wave. Dating, sharing my knowledge, or toiling on some personal project. But life made sure to take that from me at every turn. So stop bothering me with these feelings. Stop bothering me.
I feel tired and old, and through. Done. So I do what I can until the clock ticks downwards. I know I’ll die young and not by my own hand. It’s something you feel. It’s something you just do. My heart asks why can’t I be allowed to just have the pleasure of reciprocated love?. It sends a wave of sadness.
I just want to just lay back and fade away. Just fade into the wind and have my body to nourish the ground. My organs to save some lives. My soul free from this useless mortal world.
My heart skips a beat and sends a wave of sadness. That wave sends tears. The tears go in reverse. I’m weak and tired and I’ll lay down in this heat and allow my brain to fry little by little.
3 comments
How old are you?
As funny as it sounds I’m only 23 but my thought processes are so much older than I am. I understand older people better than I understand people my age and rarely the younger. I’ve been called an old soul and a visionary before. But for the life of me this is the wrong era to even use that to my advantage. Any thing I think of someone has done and even finished before me. Inventions already invented, poems had actually been written, songs composed. Things like that are what make me question daily why I’m here. There’s nothing I can contribute.
I loved this.Thanks for writing it. Will look forward to seeing more posts from you.