“True terror isn’t being scared; it’s not having a choice on the matter.”
― John Green, Turtles All the Way Down
On the verge of insanity. The only aim is to survive.
‘Wake up!’
‘Get out of bed!’
‘Go to work!’
‘Be functional today!’
and then head back home.
– a so-called functional human being ,
almost normal on the surface
for like ten hours a day –
Go back home and crumble.
Lying on the broken pieces of whom you used to be
(when you felt less like a fraud)
keep telling yourself that you must get through tomorrow
one more tomorrow, and then one more
and one more.
Make plans. Pretend you’re gonna be such a vision.
Keep pretending
waiting for madness to take over again
‘There’s no escape‘, it shouts
laughing about how you’re never gonna make it
through the night.
‘You are faceless!’
‘You are worthless!’
‘You are numb!’
‘You are nothing!’
So numb
– so numb it is almost unbearable;
so numb that the voices echo through your entire body
telling you to stop resisting.
Why keep fighting?
‘You’re such a functional fraud!’
– a loner longing for imaginary scenarios
in which you’re sane, in which you’re normal
not only functional, but bubbly and normal.
How is it to fall asleep without wrestling with those demons for hours,
without knowing you’ll wake up
only to put on that functional fraud suit again?
How is it to be surrounded by people,
by real people?
Your imaginary scenarios seem so good,
so real
so normal.
‘Too bad it’s only a mirage!’
On the verge of insanity
The functional fraud suit is so heavy that one day I’m gonna crush under its weight.
‘Keep holding on’, I keep telling to myself
today and the next day,
and the next one.
What if there’s gonna be a time when I’m gonna let myself fall
through the rabbit hole
and cease being such a functional fraud?
Alta's World 