My own hostage

These blankets are holding me against my will, though maybe I’m willing to slip into another  day dream, for day dreams are far sweeter than the reality that lies on the other side of these sheets. The fabrics tangled with my skin, they hold me hostage. My brain has been laced with poison and sin, but they are so lovely that I don’t have the strength to leave. I will spend my time rehearsing the new apology that I will give today, I will apologize to myself for fading in and out going ever so much farther from the life I want for myself. And an apology I will give my family at dinner when I explain why I haven’t appeared in what seems like years. But to come up with a new excuse is wasting so much of the energy that I don’t have, and so again I will simply say that I’m tired. It’s become a ritual, and a habit. My routine, and what people expect from me. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t like this. But why do I even waste my time thinking of these things, because In the end, I won’t ever have the strength to leave these covers, because who I was died in this bed, she drowned in her tears and her soul floated away in the many nights she tried to escape this room. So now as a corpse I lay here trapped, just know I have never stopped trying, but I can’t move.. no really I can’t, for how is a body supposed to continue on without it’s soul and a mind that allows it to love life? Believe me I am trying, If I could live again I would find the strength to, but for now I’m tired.