You’re laying in bed and you’re staring at the ceiling,
but it’s not the ceiling you’re seeing because it’s 3 AM
and your bedroom is a black hole.

The pressure—
from life and expectations and everything you haven’t said out loud—
feels like a knife in your chest and you’re having trouble breathing.

Your teeth are clicking together
with the words you can’t make yourself say,
but you’re trying so hard to make sense of everything clouding your brain.

You made homes out of people,
even though they told you not to.
They warned you but darling you never listen, do you?

You’re laying in bed alone and you’re shaking.
And you can’t stop shaking.
And you won’t stop shaking.

3 AM feels like hell ; s.m. (via styleshockey)