Pack a Bag and Disappear
Heavy heart full of unspoken words Sober mind full of dreams unfulfilled Heavy tears filled with pain Serious thoughts drowning you like rain Heavy burdens you cannot share Sudden responsibilities you have to bear
The words you cannot share The dreams you cannot pursue The tears in hideaway The thoughts you bury behind red curtains The burdens you latch on to The responsibilities you take to act strong
You cannot share because it only hurts people You dream, but you lock yourself back down before you fly You cry, but you don’t want anyone else to see the pain
The thoughts you keep to yourself because you know how much other people hurt you with their beliefs.. but you don’t talk, do you? You just nod your head and take it in. Be strong… right?
Burdens that kill you; you cannot do anything about them. You’re responsible for others’ protection, yet it all comes and bites you because people expect it. People want you there all the time. People are addicted, just like you are. They keep running back for their high, but what happens when you’re their high but you’re running out? You’re slowly running yourself to the ground, and you know you’re killing yourself.
You do.
But you do it anyway because it’s your addiction. It brings you that temporary satisfaction. That temporary relief. That temporary happiness. But you’re killing yourself.
And you do take action. Small steps. But at the end of the day, you feel drained. All you want to do is sleep it all away because not even the tears can fall down at this point. Your body cannot handle it, not after the scars and the blood. Not after the open wounds and the wounds you open up every day, right? Because you see the blood, and you still push yourself further.
Because you feel the pain, but you choose to ignore it. Because you want to feel present, but you cannot wait for the moment you run away. Because you cannot inflict that kind of pain on others. You would still rather kill yourself slowly than share that pain with someone.
It isn’t about trust — It’s never about that.
But you’re ashamed of what you do. It’s ashamed of how you let it consume you. Because a lot of people think you’re strong and they admire you for that. And yes, you are strong. That’s one of the things you love about yourself. Your fucking strength. That’s when you choose to push people when you’re weak. You do not want people to see that side of you because you think it’s hideous. Weak. Ugly. A fucking joke.
And it makes you doubt yourself. And love. And life.
And you don’t know if you believe in anything anymore.
So right now? All you want to do?
Grab a backpack. Pack some clothes, a water bottle, snacks, and your money. And walk. Camp away. Be alone. Exist. Away from people. Away from energies. Away from fakeness. Away from sadness.
Away from you, that exists here.