Exhalation Masses

Stinging from the slowly growing masses, he decided to keep trudging, thorough and deep strides

Knowingly stomping through the grounds of massacreic meanderings, he didn’t care that his hopes were becoming his own version of hell, created and formed, designed for the soul purpose of getting used to a taste of a place he would soon know

Desire for the rupture, storming approached lessons, he ran through every detail that troubled his empty sockets, charging as he plugged in the waves

Walking, realizing that everything he breathed in were just remnants of everyone else’s exhalations, carrying their burdens and making them his own so that his appeared disadvantaged

He wanted to be invisible only because that’s what he was used to, so he trudged into the place he knew well, the corners of every crevice of every memory and sliced them in pieces, threw them into his veins and slowly drowned them as he was drowning with the loudness of all his thoughts

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Employed By Depression

I keep running away from almost every opportunity I get, especially with jobs.

But in reality, depression has become like a job to me over the past 10 or 11 years.

It’s consumed almost every ounce of me. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or not doing, it doesn’t matter if I’m with people or alone.

Every other day if not everyday is a constant struggle with having too much sleep or not sleeping enough, eating or not eating at all, feeling alone yet needing to isolate myself so that I don’t annoy people.

People tell me to find a hobby, to get up and do something, but even when I find a hobby.. or do something I feel I’m decent at, I either lose interest by finding another interest or I get bored or give up because it’s too difficult.

What seems to be my rock bottom, usually doesn’t feel like it’s enough to help me soar to the surface.

Yet despite all of these things, I’m still fighting even when I’m on my last straw.

I’m still fighting even when I feel as though I’m at my lowest point.

Someone once told me that it’s sometimes harder to let go than it is to hold on.

That may not be true for some people, but I feel as though it’s true for me personally because no natter how much I want to give into letting my body give up, no natter how many times I run away and create a new identity, no matter how many times I try to give up, for some reason, I snap out of it. I find something that motivates me without even searching for it and it’s enough until it isn’t enough again.

Social Anxiety.

When I’m speaking my opinion with a friend.

Me: Sorry
Them: Why are you sorry?

When I’m barely talking in a group.

Them: Why aren’t you talking?
Me: Sorry. Everytime I speak up, I’m either being ignored or I cause an awkward silence.

When I’m at a restaurant with a friend and have a plate of food in front of me barely eaten.

Them: Why aren’t you eating? Makes me feel awkward for being the only one eating.
Me: Sorry. I get anxiety sometimes when I eat in public.

I apologize a lot because growing up, I felt invisible and I got ignored a lot up until highschool. I was afraid to eat in public, let alone even talk in a group of friends.

People tell me I apologize too much and that I shouldn’t. I apologize because I picture myself to be the teacher in charlie brown you mumbled in the background and felt like people thiught of me that way. That’s mainly why I don’t socialize often with my friends in person.

So when people tell me to ” get off the internet ” and to ” make ‘ real ‘ friends “, it’s not that easy for me. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. My friends online are very much real to me and a lot of them know more about me and have stuck by me more than most people in my outside of the internet life.

I am not you, nor myself.

One day I identify as Transgender, the next I’m fluid. I’ve come to the realization that I may not always identify as one gender, both genders or even a gender and that it’s not anyone else’s business as to why I go by different pronouns so very often.

I used to believe that I had to experience dysphoria just to be considered transgender or even believe I was born in the wrong body. Everyone has their own struggles, everyone is different and not everyone may feel the same way as another transgender person does. I don’t believe that I was born in the wrong body. However, I just believe that I need to alter the body my soul has been entrapped into.

If I tell someone that today I’m male and tomorrow, I go by neutral pronouns or even female pronouns, that doesn’t mean I’m being fake or that I’m doing it for attention. Labels are what make me confused and without them maybe I’d feel a lot more comfortable with who I am.

I myself, am too fluid in every sense of the word to label myself all the time as a certain gender. Sometimes I’m comfortable with it, sometimes I’m not. That doesn’t mean that I deserve less respect just because someone doesn’t accept me or are confused.

I am just simply trying to live in this world and it’s already hard enough.

I am me, myself and I. I am everything and nothing. I am the grey before, the disaster during and the aftermath of every storm.