Hellmann's

I feel like Bilbo. Thin. Butter, stretched over too much bread.
Only now, I'm not butter. I'm.. Mayonnaise. Someone else's condiment, borrowed, because all I've got is gone, but all I hear is people urging me on. I feel like I've spread out all I have in the time that I have, and everyone is telling me that there is so much... but there's not. I feel like I've lived to capacity - had enough experiences, enough loves and losses and failures and trials and errors and mistakes and rejections and... enough. Just enough. I've lived as much as my mind can take.
But my therapist and my boyfriend and my best friends and my family and the people who aren't much more than Facebook friends, they all think there's still room on my slice of bread. They don't see it completely covered in the paper-thin layer of butter that just can't reach any more. So I borrow energy, drive, light, power, from another, and I'm going over that thin layer of butter with a glossy layer of mayonnaise.
It feels contrived. I know that I could make that mayonnaise my own, but I don't even want it in the first place. What I want is to be gone. Gone, burnt up and mentally somewhere in oblivion or a void or a beautiful shiny white empty place where nothing external exists. I go to that place sometimes, when I'm dissociating. It's beautiful. It's calm. It's quiet. It's safe, and nothing exists but my mind..... and my mind is, for once, silenced.
The mayonnaise fills the holes and gaps in the butter with therapy sessions, nights spent close to my boyfriend, embarrassing attempts at finishing school, waking up in the morning, doing anything. Everything I do now is mayonnaise. My butter ran out, and somebody shoved this jar of mayonnaise at me and said, "Keep going."
It doesn't feel authentic. It feels empty. My current existence... empty.
I reach for the knife, the pills, the keys to lead me astray.. and I have this jar of mayonnaise. Like I should be done, I should be gone, but something, someone wants me here and I have no say in the matter.
I'm just tired. I'm so incredibly tired, and I'm done. I don't know how I go on. It's not like it's because I want to. I feel fleeting positive emotions, but even in the moment they feel foreign to me, like they don't belong, like I don't deserve them, like they've gone the wrong way and are lost here.
I just want that beautiful mental silence. The wonderful shiny white endless nothing where I have no thoughts, no body, nothing. I just want to quiet my head.