Stuck Here, Still

Y’all want me dead…

Too bad.

I tried, more than once, and the shit didn’t work.

So I guess we’re both stuck here now, huh?

Get used to me, I’ll get use to you, or maybe not.

They say the eyes never lie, and I believe it.

These days, I wear shades in public. Not for fashion.

But to hide the emptiness behind what once held so much light.

Joy, purpose, softness.

Now? I feel like a ghost dressed up in ambition. I move through the world like a functioning addict, addicted to creating, addicted to staying “busy,” because if I stop, even for a moment…

I crash.

Creating is the only thing keeping me from crumbling. And this unique business of mine… this thing I built from nothing

I can’t seem to let it go, even though parts of me wonder if it’s holding space of healing, what’s if I stop. Then what.

It’s killing me slowly.

I hate to sound negative in a moment that’s already heavy…

But if I’m being real;

It feels like I’m dying a slow, invisible death.
I can’t quite explain it with words that fit.

But if I had to try…

I’d say it feels like I’m being forced to stay. Forced to keep pushing through this world that doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

And let me be clear, “this ain’t no suicide note.

This is a conversation we need to have more often.

A conversation about what it’s like to stay when everything inside you is trying to convince you otherwise.

A conversation about how survival sometimes doesn’t feel victorious, it just feels like endurance.

I think a lot of us are in this space…

And I’d bet that if more people truly understood that feeling, maybe more of us would have reasons to stay. Real reasons. Not the fake “stay positive” stuff, but genuine support, understanding, connection.

Anyway, I’m drifting.

Let’s come back to this beautiful, ghetto place we call Earth.

It’s pouring rain right now.
And it’s loud, like the sky’s screaming and we’re all supposed to listen.

It sounds beautiful. Feels even better.

I’m standing in it, writing this on my phone.

At first, I hesitated. Didn’t want to get my sneakers wet. But then I remembered who I was. I remembered that I’ve survived worse than soggy 1’s

Now I’m out here, soaking wet, and somehow, finally feeling something real.

The rain is hitting hard now.
So hard, I can barely type.

But before I go, here’s the takeaway, for you, for me, for whoever needs it:

When you’re having a moment, write something.

Say something out loud.

Make a voice note.

Don’t keep it in.

Even if you gotta scribble it on the back of a receipt or whisper it into your cracked phone mic.

Get it out.

“Let the rain have it. Let the sky carry it.”

Let something outside of you hold what you’ve been holding inside.

Because sometimes, surviving looks like standing in the storm in your 1’s and still choosing to breathe.

Hope this helped someone, it helped me.

–B.