Make it stop.

Make it stop.

It started with warmth, a hand held tight, a presence always near. But then the warmth burned, clung too close, pressed too hard.

Always watching, from every corner they are capable of watching me in. No space to breathe, no room to think. Every step judged, every word twisted into a blade for them, every silence punished. Too dry means no warmth. Too happy means I was hiding a thing. What is the balance? How do I balance it?

Accusations like daggers, sharp and sudden. A glance in the wrong direction, a delay in response? Sins that could never be forgiven. Apologies never enough. Explanations never believed. They were always right. They were never wrong, no matter what, unless the most tangible proof was to be given. No moment of my own. Sleep interrupted, thoughts invaded, freedom crushed beneath the weight of their need. The one moment they were the most caring person known to man. Right after, they completely swing and attack me. I want to hide. How do I hide? How do I hide from something that always watches?

I was the delusional one. I was a clown. I was a cunt, a asshole, every single bad thing under the sun. I was talking with people other than them. Fighting arguably every day to where it stops serving a impact. It suffocates. It hurts. It hurts so bad. I feel gravely injured while there is no physical harm. My chest presses painfully at times. This isn't what the warmth is supposed to do. The warmth shouldn't suck out my happiness from my body. The warmth shouldn't be sucking out the energy from my body as if it were a vampire. Yet it is. Forced to give them all my warmth. Devote all my time to them. How do I do that?

I tried to endure, to hold steady, to give and give until nothing was left. But cracks deepened, walls closed in. Fear replaced care, exhaustion drowned out longing. A punching bag eventually tears and falls apart if it receives enough rough punches. Tearing it all apart, piecing it back together, tearing it all apart again, piecing it back together. Again and again and again and again and again and again and again. Again. Again. And again. Countless times. How many times do I piece it back together?

One day, it will snap. It will all come crashing down. I want to stop repairing what cannot be fixed, time after time after time. I want to stop hoping. I feel obligated to keep hoping and fixing. I try. It breaks. I fix. I try. It breaks. I only have a finite amount of ductape. And there's a near infinite number of ways it can collapse. How can I keep this up?

But I can't. I lost any voice of my own, it drowns out. Gets taken out of all conceivable forms of context. Was I to voice my own, I'd get lashed out at. Punished to great extents. Was I to not voice my own, I would receive the same treatment. I don't want this anymore. How do I live without the warmth? How do I live with the warmth? Am I blinded? Am I blind? Am I deaf? Why do I feel suffocated? Why do I feel hurt talking to them? Why do I not want it? Why? Why can't I think for myself. Do I even trust myself. Do I even have a spine. Do I even have courage. I can say it to anything except to them, that I do not want the scalding heat anymore. How can I make it stop?

Make it stop. Make it shut up. Make it quit. Make it hate me. Make it all stop. Make it give up. Make it stop. Stop it. Make. It. Stop.

Authors note: I am okay. I wrote for like a hour probably.