"I Love You"

Three words. Acid on my tongue. Do they mean anything anymore? I think not. They mean nothing, nothing, nothing. They are worthless. When those three syllables escape from my tongue, I want to mean it. I want the person I say it to to know that I mean something. I want them to know that they had better hold my hand tight, or I might just slip into hell. This nullifying inertia is sickening me. I hate it. It's a feeling of helplessness, of being backed up in a corner. I'm unable to move, I can't see anything through my tears. Fear fills me, replacing my anger. Anger, anger, anger. Such a demon had so nearly consumed my life. Anger at myself. Anger tuned inward. Each line a tragedy. You want to see a tragedy? Look around you. Look at the hate you are drowning in. Look at the false hope you are giving out like the worthless slips of paper you've used to tie your noose. Tightening more and more, you're suffocating. You can't breathe. Pain is more of that same old and time-tested feeling; one of boredom and apathy. Nothing matters anymore. You don't, they don't, nothing does. After an eternity of self-induced torture, a light appears. A measly, yellow light. You don't even notice it at first. And then, a pale, fragile hand descends into your pit. A hand to pull you up and out. You get out and you're on the surface once again. But then your savior ignores you. They turn their back on you, and you're back where you started. Problem is, you've already seen what it's like to be outside. And now all you can think about is how to get back to there. And you realize something, something important.

You're never going back.

Take a breath of air, smile, and get comfortable; because you aren't going anywhere.