Imprisoned.

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I feel this sadness like a lump in my throat. Like a veil draped over my head, covering my face, not letting me see anything good.
Some times I find the willpower to fight it. Most days I don't.
It is too much it is too much it is too much.
There is no way my body can handle it or kick it out of my system.
This sadness is a parasite, it managed to camouflage itself past my immune system, rendering me defenseless against it.
I can feel it in my heart, the poisoned Ivy latched on it, attached to my veins and arteries. I am becoming it.
I tried resisting it, but I wasn't aware of my weakness until I came across it.
At first I thought it was better than the numbness, I thought this was proof that I am still capable of feeling something. Little did I know the magnitude of these tsunamis, little did I care back then.
But now I pray every night for it to leave me. I want to be normal, I want to feel normal. What do normal people when they have an excess of emotions, of deep connections to things and to people?
It is draining me, weighing me down, turning me into a lesser version of a human being, of the person I was.
My blood rushed with passion and my mind was a paradise, now I am nothing but an empty room, dusty and moldy and reeks of fear and pain.
I always check if the doors are shut and I keep them locked willingly, I don't know anything anymore.
I am not sure about anything anymore.
I don't know.
I don't care.
I trained myself to be this way.
It is safer, as horrible as it sounds, I feel safe in the captivity of my own made cell.
I am starting to adapt and accommodate myself to it.
I guess this is how it is meant to be for me.

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