WHY?

I don’t want to live.
It’s suffocating; being trapped in this skin I never chose.
I dread the sunrise, the weight of another day.
Dark thoughts claw at me, painting images of endings
I’m not brave enough to seek,
but too tired to push away.

I crave silence, isolation;
yet this world conditioned me to need someone,
to live beneath the shadow of a man.
But men have always been frightening.
Their presence makes me small,
their love feels like fear in disguise.

I’m tired. I want it all to stop.
This life;
this constant demand to perform,
to be responsible,
to carry weight I never asked to bear.
Why must I be composed,
wise,
kind,
and calm
when all I want is to scream and cry and crumble?

Why can’t I be messy?
Why can’t I be a child again;
untouched by shame,
unburdened by expectation?
Why?

Maybe I should just shut it all down;
these feelings,
this heart,
this unbearable ache.
Maybe not feeling
is better
than feeling everything
all at once.