A cell not spoken of

Barred by our mistakes, held captive by our own little worlds, scarred for life by the times we try to keep the scars away from others, we pretend to move on with life when we’re only walking in circles.
We speak of the many prisoners and their lives in the tiny cells they call home but we often forget the cells we’ve forced ourselves to live in.

I’ve been barred into a tiny prison cell by the mistakes my mind thinks I’ve made, pushed into a corner by my inmate, my thoughts, limited myself by the selfish ways I think about myself and scarred by the times I’ve been hurt by trying not to hurt anyone else. And yet I smile for the world, pose for the photos and cry in the darkest hours of the night when no one’s watching and no one’s listening. Sometimes I wonder why I do all of this and it sometimes occurs to me that I’m doing all this to hurt the one person I tried so hard not to hurt for so long. It occurs to me how selfish I am, how stupid and how pretentious I am, holding my head high when the world itself is crashing down all around me. I’m walking barefoot on the road that has been littered with broken glass and broken promises that have been put there to hurt me but it doesn’t hurt me anyway. Just the way it didn’t hurt you to see my heart broken. I’d go through all this pain just to catch a glimpse of that beautiful smile you once wore on your face day after day just for me. Hoping that maybe if I hurt myself enough, I’d be able to get rid of that throbbing pain at the back of my mind that reminds me so much of you. Maybe by giving away that little bit of myself that still remains of me, I’d be able to take back the entirety of myself that I gave to you. Selfish, hoping with all that remains of me even that that last bit of hope breaks me down. I want you here selfishly, like a child wants the balloon that burst. How much more screaming would it take before you hear your name bouncing off the edges of the world until it reaches your ears? How much longer should I hold on for before you load your gun and pull the trigger? Where are you when I need you the most… where are those warm brown eyes and that smile that I still see so clearly when I close my eyes? I’m locked up in my own prison, behind bars.. bars that are made of just words that spell out the mistakes I’ve made – the wrong people I’ve trusted, letting go of a hand I was supposed to hold close to me, the times when I killed myself a little at a time hoping one of those nights, you’d be there holding out your hand for me smiling and pulling me out of my grave like you promised. I’ve trapped myself inside me so that the only thing you’d see is the self I portray to the world… I’m thinking now, is it really worth it?

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