I Want To, Go Back To, The First Time, The First Place.

Sometimes I don't know where I am.
Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I think I'm a ghost.
I can see right through my eyes to the wall standing behind me.
Sometimes I can't tell if I'm standing or sitting. Awake or sleeping.
Is this what life is like?
Sometimes I can't tell if I'm dead or alive.
What is it to live but to die extremely slow?
I can feel electricity in my fingertips.
Is this human or am I robotic?
Sometimes I move like water, like waves.
Up the stairs and down the stairs like rivers.
Sometimes I go sideways, like my brain is off balance.
Like my feet are telling lies.
Sometimes I think I'm made of bricks.
And then I think I'm soft. And I'm made of dust or feathers or mud.
Sometimes I think the only way to be okay is to cry until you're empty.
Void and black and infinite.
I think if I run across that bridge today I'll pass out.
Maybe I could jump off.
The water looks inviting and nourishing.
But I know better.
It lies.
It's cold like knives and if I died there today,
it means I died alone.
I want to throw my phone through glass.
And listen to the tinkling shards fall like ivory keys.
Hammers on heart strings.
Sometimes I want to bang my head on hard places.
Like I can shake the synapses in my brain to function.
I want happiness.
Come back to me, seratonin.

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