The peace I hope to find

I sometimes feel like I am stuck in nothing but loneliness slowly eating me alive, and I can feel the pain it causes me. I want to scream, but I have lost my voice I do not think I ever had one and the only thing that keeps talking is my mind, somewhere. I do not know if it is in my head or my stomach or all over my body. My mind keeps talking talking talking, and it is getting harder to breathe because it took me eighteen years to finally understand it is my own voice that is killing me. It never shuts up. My voice that never seems to let go of me, that seems to bring the worst out of me, that nobody seems to hear, but me. I start to realize maybe, just maybe I would be able to talk for myself just for once if I had the strength to scream at the face I am forced to see in the mirror every day. I feel like my mind is a form of hands around my throat and legs that kick my stomach and laughter that fills my head.

All of this is invisible to those around me because they only focus on themselves. “Be the main character of your life”, everyone says. They do not understand that it is hard to think of possibly being a main character when your head keeps pushing you out, not even letting you be a simple side character in your own story. Maybe maybe maybe if I tried- but I never get to think farther because I keep interrupting myself. I am tired, tired of fighting against myself, so I shut my eyes tight and go to sleep.

In my dreams I believe hope is the only tool to help me free myself from those strings of my broken heart. Yet how am I to hope when my hands are tied and my mouth is shut, and my eyes are closed? If I learned something in this broken and miserable life that we live in, it is that you can only rely on god and your heart and soul. I cannot continue living with my thoughts, them and I do not fit in one place. I have learned that the only thing louder than any voice kicking me to death and taking my breath is my soul. My soul listens and talks but it is so calm calm and gentle that it hurts because I spent about seventeen years of my life not knowing what it feels like when someone something genuinely cares. I never had a chance to feel loved, yet I daydream about being loved every day someday. I imagine love is warm, quiet and peaceful. Like lukewarm rain in hot summer nights or sleeping in freshly changed bedsheets or a hug by no one else but the version of myself that loves me the way I am. By the past me who is proud of how far I have come. By the future me whom I wish to become.

I wish I knew one minute of silence in my life but all I keep on doing is worrying, worrying I keep on worrying about my future about my past and my present and all the versions of myself that I would love to love. That I would want to cherish, be proud of and smile at so brightly that the world thinks the sun is unnecessary to light upon our land. I hope that someday this version of me is going to be my future daughter, which deserves to be loved the way I was never loved. I hope, dream, cry out loud and for the first time in forever I found a voice to laugh with, because my head was waiting for me to find something worth continuing for. Someday, somewhere, sometime in this world or another I will find peace and a place where I fit in, that I am sure of.