this thing i wrote... [upon losing my mind]

there's that strange gaping feeling
like the space from your throat to your stomach is massive
and yet empty all at the same time
the lump that crawls up your esophagus and makes you want to cry
but the tears aren't coming
i wish they would
kind of like that feeling like you need to be sick
you might like to get it over with already
but then, there's that feeling that if you start you'll never stop
i didn't want to feel anything
i still don't
i couldn't sleep
and as tired as i am, i could happily stare blankly into space
although this radio station could send me into a fit of rage
i'm climbing the walls
in my mind anyway
counting down the minutes until someone gets here
i need out
and soon enough, someone will realize i'm not ok right now
and i can't exactly tell you why
i know too much.
those raging words will stick with me for a very long time
i'll beg for isolated amnesia, but it won't come
you're asking too much of me
every last one.
remember that header?
i've been lying.
or at least concealing.
have you ever hurt so badly that you go numb?
have you ever wished someone would punch you so that you could feel something?
it's dark in here and i'll never ever tell you so.
when you discover that you are an option to everyone you make a priority.
when you discover that they mean well
but you're not enough.
when you discover it was all a lie.
your feelings. your emotions. none of them matter.
your wants your desires.
none of them matter.
your needs.
none.
matter.
i am utterly bloated with sadness.
deflated of worth.
hardened by disappointment.
and tired of trying again and again.
the angry tides are coming in
and it's only a matter of time.