I don’t want to be saved.
Not tonight.
Not by hope,
not by promises that sound like recycled air.
I’m not broken in a way
that healing can touch.
I’m worn down,
thinned out,
tired in a way sleep can’t reach.
People say “keep fighting”
like the bleeding hasn’t already happened.
Like there’s some victory in dragging myself
through another day
that feels exactly like the last one.
I don’t want answers.
I don’t want light.
I just want the noise in my head
to stop scraping against my thoughts.
If numbness is all I get,
I’ll take it.
At least it doesn’t hurt
to feel nothing.
And maybe someday,
when the world isn’t this heavy,
I’ll want more than breathing.
But tonight—
I’m just here.
Not living.
Not dying.
Just here.
Through the Fog 
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