alone in a square box

my breathing is loud,

a condition one would relate to

anxietyangerinsanitypain.

i name it a condition because

it arrives unwanted

and i hate people i truly love;

uncalled for,

like accidents in the middle of the night.

i like to talk to myself, as if

i am

the rest of the world,

regretting my good intentions

that led to the loss

of control and fear

of tasting solitude

- though i spend many conscious nights

alone

because

alone

i sense myself

coming back to

life

.and the blindlights hitting me as i stand up too quickly

is beautiful.

there are those who make things better

yet they are them

that make things worse

all the same.

i forget the meaning

of letting myself feel

happy.

everything is around me

i feel heavy

standing by myself.