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A reflection on the weight of self-imposed pressure and the paralysis of writer’s block. When emotions become overwhelming and creativity feels out of reach, sometimes the only way forward is through. This piece channels the heaviness—shame, exhaustion, internal brutality—and turns it into language. Writing not to escape the feeling, but to face it, and in doing so, loosen its grip.
Inspired by a recent conversation I had with my mother
I feel like I keep hitting my limit
Over and over and over again
I am swallowed by an infinite horizon
And dragged deep under the water
My lungs are filled with salt
Sinking is inevitable
It feels good to be happy
Our hearts touch,
And for a moment I can feel the sun
But I am so ashamed
My soul ripped open by my own merciless words,
Left skinless and raw
My spirit bleeds on the ocean floor
Because i deserve it
I dont deserve anything
I am tired
And I cant seem to get up
A reflection on the weight of self-imposed pressure and the paralysis of writer’s block. When emotions become overwhelming and creativity feels out of reach, sometimes the only way forward is through. This piece channels the heaviness—shame, exhaustion, internal brutality—and turns it into language. Writing not to escape the feeling, but to face it, and in doing so, loosen its grip.
Inspired by a recent conversation I had with my mother
I feel like I keep hitting my limit
Over and over and over again
I am swallowed by an infinite horizon
And dragged deep under the water
My lungs are filled with salt
Sinking is inevitable
It feels good to be happy
Our hearts touch,
And for a moment I can feel the sun
But I am so ashamed
My soul ripped open by my own merciless words,
Left skinless and raw
My spirit bleeds on the ocean floor
Because i deserve it
I dont deserve anything
I am tired
And I cant seem to get up
