Losing Myself

Some days it feels like the whole damn world

is balanced on my shoulders

one wrong breath

and everything crashes,

and everyone looks at me

as if I pulled the sky down on purpose.

I’m tired of being the villain

in stories I never agreed to star in,

tired of carrying blame

that doesn’t even belong to me

yet it sticks,

like tar on my skin,

like whispers in the walls

that won’t shut up.

I keep asking myself,

What did I do?

Where did I break?

Why does every path I walk

feel like it ends

with me digging my own grave

using the same hands

I swore would save me?

My sanity is slipping

no, screaming

tearing claw marks in the dark

as it’s dragged away,

and I’m left here

trying to hold myself together

with trembling fingers

and a head full of guilt

I never earned.

I am so damn angry.

Angry at myself

for taking the fall,

for swallowing every accusation,

every sigh,

every silence

that felt like a pointed knife.

I’m furious at the world

for letting me believe

that I’m the problem,

that I’m the storm,

that I’m the collapse and the chaos

when I’ve only ever been

a girl trying to breathe

under too much weight.

Everything feels like my fault

I know it isn’t,

but that doesn’t stop the feeling,

and that doesn’t stop the madness

from tightening its grip.

And I swear

if the universe blames me one more time,

if one more thing breaks

and somehow becomes my burden

I might just let the whole damn world

burn on its own

and finally stop apologizing

for fires I never lit.