trauma.
"i spent the end of my summer
listening to these songs
i know you don't like."
and i'll spend so much more time
trying to unlearn how you made me feel
about liking "sad music."
the guilt
associated with playing my favorite twenty one pilots song
in my best friend's car.
it ruined your mood
your day.
the lyrics were "too sad."
and how eventually the idea of playing my music
wasn't even appealing
it just made me feel
bad
bad
bad
bad
bad
so
i stopped playing music
in my best friend's car.
i stopped sitting in the front seat.
i stopped making requests.
i stopped telling you how i felt.
i only asked about your feelings
and hoped you'd wonder about mine.
i stopped feeling like you did.
i stopped.
i'm trying to get moving again.
gain momentum and get away from this.
it feels like i just
keep turning the key but the engine
won't turn over.
and i don't know why.
people keep asking.
i don't know the answers.
i don't know why i can still feel like this
when i'm so surrounded by love
and warmth
and good people.
and why i feel broken
in about a thousand different ways.
why i still expect someone to
be upset if i play "sad music."
even if they tell me
it's their taste or
they like that song, too.
why
i still expect to not from someone
for days
because i plated a song
in my best friend's car.
why i still expect the other shoe to drop
and rip my whole world out from under me
when it does.
i'll spend so much time
trying to unlearn the things you taught me
that have transformed into undeniable facts:
there are things inherently
obnoxiously
wrong
with who i am
what i am
how i feel
about anything
at any given time.
other people and things and myself.
and that in order to ever love
or be deserving of being loved,
i must
stop.
