Touch me someone, I’m to young to feel so numb

• Poetry

								
Your eyes are always closed. Not by choice, not by punishment, or obligation. Your eyes are closed because you simply do not know how to open them. Because your eyes are closed you’d think your senses would be better. Sharper, closer. They aren’t . You have spent years in darkness through body and mind , unable to feel the touch of anything real. It is not real if you cannot see it, cannot feel it, cannot touch it. You’ve told yourself this over and over because it is true. Because it reminds you that nothing is real , because you see nothing. You tell yourself this because it hurts . And if you hurt , then you can feel something. Anything. And if you can feel something then you’re the only real thing in a world of nothing. My eyes are closed. They haven’t been open for a very long time, I don’t remember what I used to see, or feel. I don’t remember a time before they were closed, though I have the feeling they were open once. I’m tired , you’re tired. You’re clawing at your throat, and when it starts to hurt, truly hurt worse than anything has ever hurt, you breathe. You take a big gasp and you start to feel. You do this over and over. Searching, yarning , longing for anything, something to make everything feel real this time. If clawing at your throat and poisoning your heart makes you feel, then you’re going to do it. Because you owe it to yourself to use every option (every method) there is. There are hands grabbing you. Lifting you up and into the air. They pull you back down. They tell you it’s ok , that you don’t have to hurt yourself to feel something. They’re lying, you know they’re lying. Yet you want to believe it is true, because if you can hear them, and you can feel them then they’re as close to real as anything will ever get. They grabbed my hand. Held me, whispered promises and future adventures into my ear. Then…they kissed my eyes. At that moment, there was nothing else. For a split second I felt nothing , not a thought, not even the recognition that I couldn’t feel anything. For a split second I was drowning. Then…I wasn’t. My eyes are open. They haven’t always been open, though I don’t remember a time when they weren’t, there is a feeling in the back of my mind that tells me they were closed at some point. At some point nothing was real, I can’t imagine what that was like, to feel so dark and empty and hollow. Because real things , things that you can feel and touch and hear are so beautiful. And with these beautiful eyes made of scars and lost memories , I can finally see beautiful things too. Because I am real and my eyes are open.
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