silence your mouth.

in the very pit of my stomach i suppose i do know. i've thrown myself onto the stem of growth itself, impaling my entire chest onto it, but i'm still in this. i keep leaving, and believing that if i continue to do so, all will start to move forward, but that's where our paradox begins.
"i'm moving forward, but i'm not moving forward."
they are beginning to notice that i'm not talking, that i withdraw. this distresses them, but not as much as he does. i'm really trying to be a better person- but that's a lie, because somehow on my way to trying to get up the courage to crave happiness, i lost the will. tryings a foreign and unknow process my mind refuses to accept. as much as i crave happiness, i can't bring myself to turn torwards denial like them. i will not degrade myself. i refuse to become what i've always held in contempt. that's a terrible thing to say though. i don't hold them in contempt, merely how they are the victim, and i am not. that was supposed to be mine, not theirs. i was supposed to be hurt by this, not made nonchalant. i was supposed to be that way, not them.
it's getting so hard to continue on; i'm left waiting on prozac.



i wish i could stop coughing.