I would

If I could touch you just once, to make you understand my pain, I would.
If I could draw, or paint, or take pictures of the world inside my head, I would.
If I could take those drawings, or those paintings, or those pictures, and show you what my world was like before it was ruined, I would - but I can’t.
To most, that world doesn’t exist.
To most, what happens to that world is only mental. Or even that when I say “I’m too tired,” all the time I don’t mean sleep but that's what they hear.
That being too tired is an excuse.
That instead of the chaos in my head that makes me mentally fatigued, I’M LAZY.
If I could show you what my world looks like now, I’d hesitate.
Maybe instead of actual pictures, I’d draw and paint one instead.
Because no matter how much I love and cherish art, I cannot create what I wish others to see.
See, that drawing or painting wouldn’t be very good.
You would also only be seeing what I want you to see.
Not what is actually there.
If I could show you what my world really looks like, you’d be horrified.
If you could see it, you would have insomnia just like me.
Because while from a distance the colors blend into a rainbow - there’s much more to it than that.
Because I never liked the color red, it only ever reminds me of anger and blood and murder. And it reminds me of the type of apples I never like to eat. Of fancy cars I will never own, and of rose petals - flowers too painful to keep.
And orange is my favorite soda I like to drink, and sorbet, and dum-dums.
Yellow is something I’ve always disliked. I’ve never liked sun flowers and it’s always too happy.
Green is far better and my most favorite, because it reminds me of the home created for me. Of the endless place I’ll never fully understand.
Blue is great, only for the sea and the endless blue sky.
And purple - because it’s of my past and reminds me of my mom.
And while you all see the rainbow, you don’t pay attention to the blackness holding it.
You don’t pay attention to the darkness that alway comes out of nowhere.
That swallows that rainbow up and puts everything against me.
The blackness that I have no control of.
Because, you see, no normal person should have the thoughts it forces me to think.
No normal person shouldn’t want to disappear so much. And no normal person can just talk about it.
It’s not that easy.
Because while that darkness takes over the colors of my world, the things I used to rely on become the bars of my prison cell.
The religion I know, love, and lean on tells me no, I cannot stop and becomes the chains that hold me to my cell.
That even though the darkness in my world tortures me and the God I love ignores me - I must endure it, that I must suffer because someone already died for me.
That even though I’m chained to my cell, hurting and bleeding - my red blood turning black and feeding the ever growing monster and my pain the sound of music for its enjoyment. . . I must endure.
And I will.
Because I’m not allowed to stop. Because stopping is not a decision I’m allowed to make.
And so I will endure - I’ll wait.
And eventually I will lie in bed, and I will cry myself to sleep, while silently screaming for that same God to hear me - I will not get an answer.
And the next morning.
I’ll wake up fine. I’ll wake up numb.
My rainbow back, however dull.
And I will continue - I’ll wait.
And in a couple days or weeks it’ll happen again.
I will endure.
And each time that rainbow will get duller, and more dull.
Til that once colorful world is a forgotten memory, and my world is as black as the blackness that held it.