But never gone

I want to die.

I don't know how these thoughts keep coming to mind lately. 

I'm not depressed. I know how depression taste like. They tend to be bittersweet, -lingering just near enough to whispers insanity into your daily thoughts, and since you have an empty space there buzzing, begging to be filled, you let these voices 

Conquer you.

Indulge you.

Salivate you.

Devour you.

Usually, I would sleep. But today, even sleep does not fulfill my sense of discontent. And then on some other days I like to see my skin break, see how life flow glaringly, accusingly against me; then seep silently between the cracks in the floor. 

Forgotten, but never completely gone.

Sigh.

If I had the choice, I want to be shaken till everything in myself were broken to pieces and fall back in all the right places. Unlike now, missing and searching.

If I had the choice, I want to take out my heart and see it beating in my palms. Peel each layer open and look for the aches that seem to come and go so inconveniently.

If I had the choice, I want to skin these fair beige colour off my arms and legs and body. Scrub away the reeking sin and cover my nakedness in stinging bubbles.

If I had the choice, I want to sleep in an arm that does not question. That hold me close, hold me so close I lose the need to breathe and all that's left is the solemn darkness of dreams.

If I had the choice,

I want to flee.

To a place that doesn't recognize me, or know me,

Or remembers me.

Forgotten.

But never gone.