It feels like I’m suffocating beneath the weight of my own creativity and dreams. It feels like I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m drowning. It feels like all of the things that I love have made themselves at home on my chest. How can I survive? How do I remain afloat when what inspires me seems to be holding my head under water? What am I supposed to do? It feels as if I’m being pulled in two different directions. I’m struggling. Sometimes it feels like no one understands. My fear is scaring off my creativity. And when it finally comes back from hiding, it crashes into me and pulls me under. I feel so incredibly vulnerable and exposed. I’m not sleeping well. I can’t rest, I can’t get comfortable. Sometimes it feels as if I’m disappearing into a life that’s not the one I should be living. A life that’s not my own is trying to consume me. I can’t seem to fight it. It feels like the harder I fight, the more difficult everything becomes. I can’t seem to give into it either. Any action I take feels like resistance. At what point does what’s holding me back propel me forward? Or does it? It’s foggy here. I can’t see a thing, let alone my way out. Part of me feels like I need to be saved. I’m writing to keep from crying. I’m writing to give all of the pressure a way out…somewhere to go. I’m writing to release. I’m writing to feel weightless instead of weighed down. I’m begging for a sign to help stop me from blending into an existence that doesn’t resonate. God, help me. Please. I’m floundering in a reality that believes my dreams are slowly killing me instead of giving me something to live for.
*This isn’t poetry. This is real life. It’s both beautiful and heartbreaking.