Music/title: Poor Eliza; Chris Bathgate
It doesn’t feel real.
Nothing right now feels real.
I look at my life, at my job and the success I’ve achieved, and I don’t know how I got here. I look back at my childhood.. That poor, lonely girl who cried herself to sleep after locking herself in her room at night. Scared to death of the mother she was supposed to love..
I look at her, and I remember her silent prayers to a deafening God for anything other than what she’d been given. Simply to have another human being acknowledge her, to touch her… Surely it would fix everything. No matter the monsters under her bed, or in her house.. If only there was someone else to share her pain with, nothing else would matter. Nothing else would hurt after that..
Surely it wouldn’t.
But then the monsters she’d grown up with had gone, and she was left with herself.
She was alone, still. And she couldn’t understand why. Nor, no matter how hard she tried, could she seem to change any of it. She was still alone, locking herself in her room, and crying herself to sleep at night. Only there was no deaf God to pray to this time.. Just a handful of regrets, and the bittersweet taste of her own self destruction.
.. . ..
You’re comfortable here.
This is where you belong. Below everything and everyone.
You deserve nothing….
.. .. . . . ..
And yet, here I am.
I am happy. I am alive and breathing.
Despite everything, I am.
It still doesn’t feel real sometimes…
/ / /
Sometimes I touch you, remembering my past, and I cling to you.
I cling to you as though you’re going to vanish,
and, once again, I’ll be trapped in that house. In my room.
Sitting on that lonely bed with the monsters,
and no one to touch.
You always know to hold me tighter.
You make everything real.