Pain in the Mundane

The tears still cool my face

The pain still sits inside

I don’t feel a fucking thing

Not even a sting

Not anything

It’s so mundane

Living in world that remains the same

Spilled with compliments that don’t resonate

I stare at the ceiling, the straight line between beige and pale white. The dedication in the precision, the detail behind the line. I know they worked on this for hours, kept trying to please me. Blue tape and paint etching their nails for weeks to come. Hours spent perfecting the edge of my bedroom walls. So why do I not feel it. The dedication and love, the heart and reality behind their intentions. I know that’s true, I know that they do, but something inside me is keeping it from me. The knowledge is there, I know how to act. So why do I wake up each day with a plan for the day. One dream each night that replays through my dreams. A feeling of nothing but waiting in my veins.

I yearn for more.

I aim for more.

I do what I can to please.

So why can’t I feel better when it seems to be enough?

I feel the same when I walk into a room full of glittering surprise Christmas decorations hanging around my bedroom. Painted walls that trace along my personalized collage wall, no damage done. The care taken with words used around me. 

Sentences broken,

Different tones chosen.

Eyes stolen by the floor, refusing to look anymore into the lifeless sole they’ve molded.

Why can’t I feel even a morsel more???

I can write all this down, but why is it when I fully process and sit down; it all seems to pound. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t recognize that I’m someone that affects others. I’ve always worried about the harm i do, the damage my problems put on to others, so why is it so fucking hard to accept that I could be a positive thing. Someone with benefits to bring. 

I wait for someone to notice me, to appreciate anything I work so hard on. Once they do I feel nothing new, the same numb feeling of needing to improve. 

Life feels so wrong.

I’m not here.

I’m just some robot trying to fit in.

Doing what’s expected and projected by others,

With no clue to what I would do without you.