Here I am

Here I am pretending to write,

To fight,

Maybe I am,

Maybe I’m not.

Respectively.

I want to get my way,

Maybe that’s the reason that I’m so behaved.

And yet, it feels like something more.

Like more than a torturous chore

That I do just to be needy,

Just to get....

Attention.

I’ve let so many people get in my head

That I blame myself for my mental health.

I’ve been inside my head for so long that I do not remember how it felt

To be normal.

They say that normal doesn’t exist,

But I believe that something beyond this

Does.

And yet, I will never be it

Because I insist on behaving this way.

I insist on explaining my actions to myself

Within my own brain

When I can simply

Stop.

Or can I?

Can I stop something that is not in my

Control?

Can I explain how I cannot control what

Others can control?

I cannot.

I cannot

Resign.

I cannot sign my name to an adjective that

Is not me.

I cannot give that kind of control to those

That wish to see me fail.

I am the saboteur.

I am the sailor,

Clinging desperately to the sails

Over the wails

And the wails of the wind and sea.

I am the ocean,

Crying, Crying out:

“Let me win, let me win!”

I am the boat,

Stuck between these two;

Between the dark and the darker.

For when one looks up,

They see sunlight.

When I look up, I see wind, rain, cold,

And pain.

When I look down, I see wet and dark,

Cold and mystery.

How will history replay this event

If I’ve decided that the mystery is better

Than the pain?

What if I’d rather take a chance then

Continue with this waning dance?

What if,

My solution is dissolution.