It's Life

How can I describe this feeling? So many things all at once, that inevitably, I feel trapped
by my own emotions. I think the word I'm looking for is ironic. Is there a word to describe
having so many feelings at once that you can't possibly process all of them? A word for the
feelings of having so many things on your plate that the idea alone of trying to process and
filter out all the emotions is stress causing in itself? Maybe the word I'm looking for is
overwhlelmed. Who Knows? Another day that passes, another emotion piles on. Theres no break
from this job. No time out, no pause, no stopping it. It keeps moving forward, rearing it's
ugly head to laugh at the simple, pitious existence that I am. The feeling is like an open
wound; A gash. An empty bottomless pit of despair. A blackhole where nothing but happiness,
and joy gets sucked up, and spat out. This feeling is a decade where depression is prominent
and smiles are extinguished. This feeling is a song that plays on repeat when heads are
pounding, throats are raw, eyes are red, and tears are flowing. This feeling is simply a
splinter under a finger nail. It is a nuisance; Nothing but an irritant. Maybe the word I'm
looking for is stressed. This feeling of anger. Of wanting to stand in a corner and scream.
To ball up my fists, and punch them into to a rock hard wall, and not care about the pain.
To rip away at my skin that seems to restrain me into unbelief. To scratch at this incessent
itch that won't let up. This feeling leaves me empty. So many emotions all at once, I can't
seem to be able to even feel one. Maybe the word I'm looking for is tired. I drag my feet
out of bed every morining, for what? To repeat the same thing; To do what I did the day
before; To press repeat? This is not supposed to be like this. This is not the way that I
am supposed to feel. I'm exhausted. I can barely keep my eyes open. There's nothing new or
exciting to see. Nothing but the same things I saw the day before. This feeling is totally
unidentifiable. It is a mystery. A protected, long since hushed away, secret. It is a myth.
A story that never unfolds. A distant blur. Nothing but a mirage that vanishes as quickly as
it appeared. And then I have an epiphany. The word that I have been looking for, is life.





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