Stop. | Teen Ink


November 10, 2014
By yaythisisavailable GOLD, Simpsonville, South Carolina
yaythisisavailable GOLD, Simpsonville, South Carolina
13 articles 0 photos 31 comments

Stop. STOP. I don’t like it. I don’t like this. I don’t like this life.
I can’t do this unless everything slows down. Until everything just STOPS. I need time to slam on the breaks and take a moment for the heart rate to settle.
I need to be able to hear nothing. No heartbeat. No breaths. Just blood flow.
I need time to grow up; this is something I can’t rush. I need time to develop. There’s no other way for this to work. I can’t force myself into something that doesn’t fit. I can’t ride a bike if my feet don’t reach the pedals.
Stop pinning me into clothes. Stop making me turning me loose without training wheels.
STOP. Stop. stop.
I think I can do this for now. I might be able to feign adulthood, feign wisdom and responsibility for a little while. A little while longer.
But I don’t know how long I can keep this up.
I can’t sprint a marathon. My lungs are hurting; they’re trying to break out of my chest. Each breath feels like a cut. It hurts to breathe.
Shaking legs. Shaking hands. Shaking heart. My body is in a chronic state of unnecessary movement. It just needs to slow down for a few minutes, just long enough for me to catch my breath. Please don’t push me farther than necessary. Help me carry this burden.
Run this race with me.
Sprint across the finish line for me.
I need someone to lean on. I spend too much time acting as the crutch, the wheelchair. I take other’s burdens that aren’t mine to bear. I’m putting on a weighted vest.
Why am I running a marathon with a hundred extra pounds? Why am I subjecting myself to such pain?
I hate this.
I need to completely disconnect myself from the people who are causing the stress. You know they aren’t the problem. Satan is attempting to weasel his way into your thoughts. He’s firing arrows at you; he’s just using people in your life to deliver the packages.
I don’t want to listen to common sense on this one. Sometimes, I just want to roll over and give up. I don’t want to have to fight this. I want to curl into a ball and hide; protect myself as best I can.
Fetal position won’t help.
I’m just as easily kicked, just as easily hurt. Nothing is accomplished through hiding.
I can’t stand up and fight. I’m far too weak. It hurts just to breathe. How am I supposed to withstand all of the arrows? I can’t. I don’t know how.
I have a shield, but it’s so hard to find. Not even find, but use. I’m stubborn. I want to fight my own battles.
They aren’t your battles in the first place, you know that. Yes, yes I know. There’s such an internal conflict. I don’t know how to handle this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all of these thoughts rushing through my head like a whirlwind of s***. What a wonderful description. You can do so much better than that.
I just want people to leave me alone! I want to lock myself in a box and listen to what the Lord has to say. Now you’re bringing the Lord into this. Shut up. SHUT UP! Just stop.
I need to be fully on or fully off. There is no in between with the idea of eternity. With the idea of God. He always is. He’s STEADFAST. He’s alive and he is here for me, I’m just too stupid to let him be my shield.
I’m shaking. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I have come to hate daylight. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I like the night. I like living nowhere. I like traveling. I like finding places only I know. I like drinking alcohol. I like smoking. I like being BAD.
Ha. You couldn’t be bad if you tried.
I could be if I wanted to.
So why aren’t you?
I don’t know.
But really, why aren’t you bad? Why aren’t you out having sex and doing drugs and getting wasted?
I don’t really want to.
Come on, yes you do.
Do I? Do I really?
Yes. I do. I really, really do. I have too much self-control. I have too much Jesus in me. I have too much “good-girl” engraved in my system. I just want to give up. I want to turn off consequences for one day and just drown myself in all things wrong and pleasurable.
I just want life to be easy. I want to be numb. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel. I. don’t. want. To. Feel.


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