scab

my heart hurts. my head feels heavy. maybe it's the four hours of sleep i got last night. maybe it was the bad day at work. maybe it's just the sadness in knowing that i'm me. i place too much of my happiness in the hands of others. like i'm incapable of figuring out what makes me happy, so i have to look to someone else to tell me what i need. or want. and then things change, and i get sad. and i start to doubt all of the good things that led up to that one bad moment. all i can see is that one bad moment. i pick at it like the scab you find yourself disgustingly, oddly, attracted to. i know what will happen, but i can't resist. i tear it open, not realizing it's the scar tissue that's holding my heart in its place. i sit there paralyzed and watch my heart drop to the floor. wondering who made such a mess. wondering when i'll stop making messes. feelings words can't even do justice to. thoughts of you. questions. confusion. doubts, always doubts. i want the calm. the calm i feel late at night, moments before sleep sets in. knowing what you want and actually being able to get your hands on it are often times too painfully far apart.