Make Me Remember How To Feel Alive

Pull me close. Kiss me hard. I hope you never regret me.

By

Make me feel. I dare you. Because nothing ever does these days. I am empty; there is nothing. Darkness surrounds me, and sometimes I’m terrified it might swallow me whole. I’ve burned my throat with liquor and my lungs with smoke trying to feel alive, trying to feel. It didn’t work. Maybe you’ll have better luck.

Make me forget. I beg you. Because my memories are killing me every night. I think of the mistakes I’ve made, the ones that maybe no one remembers but I can’t seem to forgive myself for. They keep me up; they wake me up. My mind is my cage and I don’t know how to shut it off, how to unlock that door. Maybe you’ll be the key.

Look at me. Think of me. Don’t make me easy to forget. I hide under the covers, slowly fading away from my own life. The blanket is heavy, and it’s so hard to pull it off me, to get out of bed. My phone is off and yet I need it to ring, just one sign that someone remembers I’m here. Maybe you can turn it back on.

Make me see. I need you. Old habits are hard to break. Sometimes I forget that I have to be kind to myself, that it’s okay. I get lost in all the bad and I only see my failures when I should be looking out for the good things too. The beauty in life is there, I just need to open my eyes wider. Maybe you can show me how.

Make me burn. Light the match. I need the flames to burn away the cold loneliness. Engulf me with your scorching fire; keep me warm. I have always loved the feeling of sunshine on my skin, the way the glow starts seeping in. Maybe you can be my sun, just for a little while.

Pull me close. Kiss me hard. I hope you never regret me. That lazy drawl of yours makes my name sound like honey dripping off your tongue, slow and sweet. Maybe you’ll keep it from ever tasting bitter.

Make me remember. I want to. I used to know how to be okay. I once knew how to feel alive. I miss that me. Thought Catalog Logo Mark


About the author

Andrina Liddell

Put together, yet occasionally a hot mess – a 20 something writer.