i really do care

everything i do feels like i am on autopilot. everything i say,do, or find myself obsessed with is purely distraction. sometimes i pour myself into things and eat it up until i’m too full, call it passion.. call it love.. but it doesn’t leave me satisfied.. a hunger i can’t settle. or like a pain i cannot pinpoint, even if every bit of me is screaming “here it is”

i try to plug myself into different things, try to find the switch or cord that will tie me up and say “this is it, youve found it” and all the pieces will fit in place. everything will work smoothly, i’ll be on, i;ll be alive, even if i still feel lonely. but it’s constant off switch, im playing pretend. i write.. i sing.. i make music.. i write poems, stories, prose, scribbles, i listen to music to fill up all the empty space in my brain or i listen to nothing nothing nothing nothing at all because its all too loud, can’t it hear all the voices screaming in my head already? white noise. no noise. i always look up at the stars, like every quote, like every movie that every troubled person looks up at, trying to find that magic answer, maybe hear god tell me he’s really there, and that maybe i do have a purpose and maybe i just need to speak up a little louder. then i realise.. it doesnt matter.. stars cant hear you.. see you.. they dont care if you cry.. they dont care if you laugh, and thats how everything is. you experience these emotions, or you dont experience them at all. feel too much, feel too little.. too little too small. like i dont have a right to stand here, just like everyone else. why do i feel like there is no space left here on earth for me to be, even if i already feel too small to matter? i get so jumbled in my mind.. its so much easier to play rewind in my head.

i know everyone feels lost but that doesnt make me feel any better. it doesnt make me feel much at all..
its so frustrating that i cant even put what i want to say in the right order. too paused or fastforward. everything always blurs or focuses too much on one thing, and not the other.
there’s so many things i want, a family, my family,friends… a meaning. like anyone else. and im too afraid of death, even for myself when i brave it and welcome it in my suicide letters that no one ever reads, when i fold them up or press backspace.. so no one sees. because it would be too ugly. im more afraid of death for the people i love. it takes and takes, its like me sometimes. never full and always hungry. empty still. maybe thats why it follows me.. im just afraid of being alone. i want to be real i want to feel love and happiness and passion and drive, even if i have no real purpose or divine meaning. even if god cant hear me when i talk. even if i hear “i love you” and dont feel a thing.. i want to feel it.i sometimes do, sometimes it makes my heart swell.
but thats the terrifying part.. it feels too real.. too real. too full.too warm. reminds me that i am real, so i start shutting it off, shutting down. i can be out on my knees begging, my hands scrambling in a rush to turn it all back on.. but my safety mode sets in and i dont feel it again. and the more i run after it, the faster it is ahead of me. and i am scared i wont catch it. and i am scared i will catch it. attachment is terrifying, it is fleeting. and no matter how much love or hope you say you have, it will be gone. i want it though, so badly… and i always will.. that is the part that scares me, makes me feel more alone. i dont want to stop searching for the right parts to fill up my hollow. it hurts when i fill it up, it hurts when i leave it empty. but i would do anything to feel the warmth and love and heartburst wherever i can..
im always lost and confused.. i know everyone is, but i dont care about them,its selfish, even when i try. i dont even care about me. but i want to. i have to. i have so much love. its just hard to reach sometimes. i can pull it out, put on a show. i hug, i kiss, i really do care i do i do i do i do i do i do i promise i do. if i say it enough its real. i want it real. i am real. but i cant be. daydreaming, and always hazy feeling, i am tired and i am hateful and i am bitter, but i still taste sweet. everything is sweet, even in aftertaste. if all i ever feel of love is the aftertaste then i will try to be okay