It’s 3AM and I’m pretending to be a ghost. My mind shrinks and expands. Let’s practicing our breathing together. It all goes dark when you close your eyes for too long.

Stories about your shitty friends. Unnecessary mistakes. Unlearned lessons that you keep studying. Say you’re always right, though. These are some things that I fucking hate. The world says scream, and I whisper “suffocate”. I can do this gently. Watch my hands shake, and still I strike the match perfectly.

Everybody has been telling me their version of understanding. They say I’m too good of a person. Tell me I’m gentle and abrasive all at once. What’s the point of understanding anything at all? I mean, you threw a truce in the air, but really wanted a dare all along. I can read through your cloudy eyes. You’re dying for a jolt of pressure. That rush of acting over admitting. You couldn’t lie if you tried- and that’s why I choose truce every fucking time.

I hear everyone’s shortcomings like a siren. I tuck my head under my pillow and sleep for days. Their energy eats at me like a foggy conscious. My back hurts from carrying everyone’s spirit- please light my fire so I can melt into the sun. You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t know how, right? Tell me a lie all over again. I’ll show you how ghostly my silence can feel. Maybe it’s all a dream in the end- maybe that’s all it ever was. -AMT