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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.

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