alone in a square box

my breathing is loud,
a condition one would relate to
anxietyangerinsanitypain.

i name it a condition because
it arrives unwanted
and i hate people i truly love;
uncalled for,
like accidents in the middle of the night.

i like to talk to myself, as if i am
the rest of the world,
regretting my good intentions
that led to the loss
of control and fear
of tasting solitude

- though i spend many conscious nights
alone
because
alone
i sense myself
coming back to life
.and the blindlights hitting me as i stand up too quickly
is beautiful.

there are those who make things better
yet they are them
that make things worse
all the same.

i forget the meaning
of letting myself feel
happy.

everything is around me
i feel heavy
standing by myself.