These Things

Its December again and nothing has changed. I want to unwind and kill the clock inside my head. How did I come to think this was fine? I don’t want to wait until I die to see a new horizon.

 If he were here he would call me out. Say that I am vindicated. Make me aware of my afflictions, my latest mistakes. He would tell me to plaster that fake smile to the wall and set my unnatural on the top shelf, a little to the left. I know it’s all a lie but I want it to be true. I ignore all these things just so I can sleep at night; ashamed of these things.

 I want that one day of comfort. I want to take off my thick covering and say 'here I am' without sheepishly turning away. I used to be paranoid of getting lost and now I’m paranoid of being found.

While contemplating the words I should say to him, I’m thinking of all the places I don’t belong. I see the brake lights and stop signs and I’m dreading the crash that will wake me up.  

I check the watch on my wrist to avoid eye contact with him. He’s there in between the shadows that hold my struggles and the horizon that could actually be worthwhile. I want to be something that’s more than what’s expected. I want to be real.