I can’t see much.

It’s like the world is turning,

But leaving me behind.

The sensation you get when you spin in a swivel chair really super fast.

Then you suddenly thrust your foot out and you jolt to a stop.

I don’t feel much.

The pain I long to inflict on myself is too out of reach.

Blocked by promises I swore I’d keep and mountains of doubt and fear.

When will it end?

When will I be brave enough to say my life is over.

Or smart enough to say it’s not.

Learning our friends have a gun, I long to know it’s hiding place.

Thinking that if I had the chance to be alone.... Why not? It’s easy enough.

I wouldn’t be missed by many.

If I was missed, I doubt that though, they would soon forget me.

Just as a thrilling adrenalin rush is forgotten until experienced again.

Hurting myself is no joke.

I realize that. But it would feel good.

A release of so much hurt.

A pipe waiting to burst.

Some might say I’m crazy.

I might be.

But when you know me, and you might, I’m just struggling.

I am a nobody.

I am a nothing.

One of those lost tracks you bump into in the hall of your school.

I’m pin balled around until I finally fall.

They get second chances, I only get one.

Will I stay above the pit?

Or eventually fall?