holding space for myself
I run so fast and intensely
from liking myself.
Holding space for myself is alien.
How can I hold space
when any positives about me
feel like the weight of spacetime
folding onto itself.
I run aimlessly and fill space
from others' chasms.
It's monumentally easier sheltering there.
At least this way I am helping them
out of their
deep oceans of pain.
It's ok, you go to the surface,
I'll hide in the depths instead.
This feels like home.
Crying on a Monday night,
I wonder why feeling and doing things
is so continously hard.
I should share myself with others.
But hidden behind that instict
is the fear that I will lose them.
For I am not someone worth loving,
if I cannot give my entire being to others.
Sadness, anxiety, and grief are the most comfortable feelings.
I am the normal me when in their midst.
To come out of them, in those rare moments,
I look at myself puzzingly.
Who is this person?
You don't belong here.
Go land back into that comfortable, stabbing noise.
It's the only bed I know.
So, is it any surprise
that I run faster
when I am sadder?
β