Weight

The weight from everything is crushing.

Gravity itself is enough to render me flat on my back.
I am the weight. I struggle under my own flesh.
I fantasize about splitting like a cocoon.
That one day I will cut myself out of this thing that makes me unlovable.
That something will emerge from it, something worthy of praise. Something worthy of anything positive at all.
I am mixed with my problems, there is no dividing line, we are one.
I hate it. I want free.
I hate the parts of me that force me to hurt. I love the parts of me that are hurting.