Desperation

Desperation: A state of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behavior.

But if you recognize your own desperation, are you really in a state of despair?

What do you do when you’re battling for control over your own life?

I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to let you win.
You didn’t get to hurt me. You don’t get to break me.
You abandoned me and in return, I turned it off.
Pushed it all away. Feeling anything made me weak.

In my battle for control, I turned cold.
I burned bridges. Lost myself. Lost it all.

Feeling nothing is easier than facing the pain.
It’s what I did.
It’s what I do.
But the control still slipped through my grasp,
gliding slowly into oblivion as I watched it fall from my intertwined fingers.

Once the control is gone, all you can feel is the numbness that engulfs you like a blanket. It clings to you like a thick wool sweater on a warm day that you’re so eager to rip off but it’s stuck. Clinging to your damp skin as the sweat trickles down your back.

You’re desperate to feel now, just to prove you can.
Even if all you can feel is the anger that lies beneath the surface,
covering up sadness and pain that lies beneath.

The pain stings like a piercing blade gliding over pale, exposed flesh.
Like the sharp hunger pains after skipping a few meals.
Like the feel of your fingertips scraping the back of your raspy throat.

But you quickly learn that desperation for control won’t be alleviated.
You’re left with cuts and scars.

Broken. Sick. Fragile. 

Instead, you become reckless.
Impulsive.
Dangerous.
Careless.

And with each sunrise and sunset, another day passes.
And you’re still alive.
But you’re still numb.
The desperation continues to engulf you.

One day it hits you.
You are broken. You think you need to be fixed.
You desperately cling to someone or something that makes you feel.

I want that rush,
I crave that thrill.
I need someone to remind me
That I can feel.

It’s bottled up inside me
Pulsing through my veins.

I wanted happiness,
But hurt others around me, instead.
I hurt myself.
I lost the control I fought so hard for.

Then it all flooded back.
And I was treading, drowning in emotion.
Forced to feel.
Forced to be vulnerable.
Unable to survive.

The tears finally came like waterfalls.
Countless nights spent tossing and turning.
Meals went untouched, still.
But I could feel again.

The desperation still lives within me.
To help figure out who I am now.
To seek out the little things that piece me back together.
The little things that bring me joy.

The desperation still lives within me.
But it doesn’t control me.
I have control again.
I can feel.
I can grieve.

I can heal.

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