Maladaptive Daydreaming
The flashing lights grow closer,
but the cries of my 6-year-old sister
have quieted.
To my left, I see the car driver, my brother,
lying motionless in the road.
Rain hits my legs.
No.
Blood drips down my body.
I can no longer feel my own pulse.
Relief washes over me;
I won’t have to face the agony of losing you.
I think I die.
I hope I do.
But the light never ignites,
only an empty darkness
that feels like home.
We can’t lose her either
I felt the rejuvenating pulse throughout
my whole body.
I resurface,
broken but breathing.
Turning onto the gravel driveway,
I wipe the tears from my face.
Bracing to greet my parents,
I plaster on a genuine smile
masking my sorrow.
Taking my keys out of the ignition,
the story crumbles.
I made up the car crash
simply to pass time.
No glass, no screaming.
No loss, no love.
The pain is just as real, the guilt, the confusion
of inventing a nightmare
just to escape my mundane routine
of school, work, study, sleep.
I stare at the grey house in front of me,
like it’s a stranger.
I wonder if I am the kind
of person who needs tragedy
just to believe I matter.
I never wanted to survive this quiet life,
wanted only to stop pretending
I’m okay.
I walk inside, the beige walls welcome me.
I say hello like I haven’t imagined
my own eulogy.
I eat dinner, talk about school
and about work.
No one knows that I die
every day in a place
they can’t see.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
