Mannequin hug

My fingers feel heavy,
So that even putting words to paper
Exerts every ounce of energy.
This is a complete 180
From where I was a week ago;
What I thought was my better half
Smirks with derision from the firmament
Saying, “I was never a part of you.”
It must have been delusion, then,
And now I have come face-to-face
With a reality soul-crushing and typical:
The exact story that my life has told
Every fucking chapter.
I’m tired, I’m beaten,
And totally disconnected from everything
And everyone I thought I’d never lose.
I may stand before them,
But they aren’t looking at me;
They’re looking at a shell,
The hollow, substance-less form I present
So that no vulnerability or weakness is seen;
But the cracks are there, and growing,
And I’m too weary to put the mask back on,
So the only recourse is exposure,
To show the world the chaos and hopelessness
Occupying this far-too-fragile mind.
And when I am deemed too far gone,
Too inconvenient to bother with,
Maybe then I can finally convince myself
To find the release I’ve sought my entire life.
What a glorious day that would be.

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