Insanity

I know so many words in so many languages.

They're nowhere near enough to convey to you how I feel right now.

Perched in front of my toilet, waiting for the next bout of retching and drooling and raw emotion to shove its way up and out of me, into the world in physical form.

Tears covering my face, in the least beautifully tragic way you can imagine.

It's gross, seriously.

Ridiculous; unable to be liked, or loved; frivolous; hysterical; over dramatic; broken; impossible to understand; annoying; an absolute mess; dysfunctional; mentally unstable; insignificant; alone; stupid; stupid; stupid; stupid; stupid.

All words I'm sure you can comprehend, most you can likely imagine.

But there are none that can make you feel how deep a hole they rip in my psyche.

How pervasive they are.

How much they frustrate me and make me want to drive my fists into concrete over and over and over because I am an intellectual, I am above this, my rationality and ice cold heart are supposed to be my most powerful features and yet I am here screaming silently on the cold tile of my bathroom floor and shaking and staring at an albino spider on the wall and not even able to move even though spiders are my worst fear because I can't do anything except be torn to shreds.

And it's all over nothing.

Nothing.

So I can tell you all these things.

But it's so sad to me that nothing can make you feel the exact depth of all of this.

And so I'll sit here.

And continue to sound insane.