Real or Not?

January 22, 2018
By Mone Mondragon BRONZE, Pecos, New Mexico
Mone Mondragon BRONZE, Pecos, New Mexico
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

When was the last time I felt something?

The last time I said something that I didn't take from a book or steal from someone's lips or read from someone's face and tuck away for later use under "acceptable social cue ". All the interesting things I have to say are refined and bottled and shaken (not stirred) then popped open for (e)special(ly awkward) occasions. I feel pain and sadness very briefly and very far between. Anger is boiled carefully over time then taken off of the heat right as it was about to spill over. I am this passive growing shell made of rubber and pieced together by the glue of complacency. You can ball me up. Mold me. and shove me through any keyhole and I'll just get through. I feel love maybe? More so a pain of loss than a satisfaction of found. People would say I was a presence in a room. A stage presence? I remember laughing. Really. Truly. Bellowing. Wheezing. Not this "trying to laugh because you're still laughing and I'm uncomfortable with silence " laugh. I remember crying. But for a reason. I could follow my the latitude and longitude of my heart with my fingers and they would meet at a specific spot. Now. I'll exist by along a curbside and a single tear will well in my eye. Almost passable for an allergic reaction(Is reality an allergen?). I couldn't control it if I wanted to. I'm emotionally disabled a little bit. But no one has to know. Unless I'm dr*nk. And alone. Or with YOU. Because I tell YOU everything and YOU listen. Understand(probably not)?Then, I am open. I am real because the lovely buzz of al****l on my adolescent brain loosens up all the doors I have slammed shut. Save for the untimely meltdown. Lucky YOU. The floodgates unleashed and YOU're paddling amongst spilled truths and rusted lies. Piecing together yellowing newspaper clippings to try to find a headline: GIRL LOSES HER GODDAMN MIND; WASHES ASHORE WITH 'BROKEN MEMORIES'. I don't even want to die anymore. At least I was actively DOING something. Productive or otherwise.

The author's comments:

TW:suicidal ideations. I'm inspired by myself at my most vulnerable moments. Things I may not share with my immediate peers I will share with you strangers. These seashells helped me feel more shore of myself

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book