KIDNAPPED
@anonymous
Memories fleeting.
Emotions so faint I can not distinguish,
scarring my lungs, taking refuge in my throat.
The constant reminder that I am nothing
but a vessel of hormones,
makes me wonder if anything I'm feeling is real,
or is this just an illusion?
What right do I have to do things that excite me,
when all I do is slip?
What right do I have in seeking help,
when all I get is;
"it's part of growing up."?
I try to believe in it,
I do,
but the hollowness that fills me,
the colourful thoughts fading into each other,
dissolving into the background like watercolour,
producing a messy, pointless brown.
How prolonged this is becoming,
is not exactly amusing.
It is not something im proud of,
not something I want,
not something I read on a post,
I want to feel human again and feel the delicious rush of joy,
I want to find things inspiring again, laugh from the bottom of my chest, daydream about someone.
I even want the feelings most stay away from,
I want to shake from fear,
I want to cry from sincere sorrow,
I want to be disgusted when i read articles about murders, war and famine.
I want to feel.
I want to feel.
I want to feel.
I want to feel.
Feeling;
something that has been switched off,
snatched away, stolen, kidnapped, thieved, robbed, looted,
a little over a while ago.
So I ask you,
not seeking help.
but out of curiosity,
"is growing up supposed to feel like this?"
Or should i say,
"what sort of growing up is this?"
And begging you to tell me,
when it's going to end.