i don’t want to remember the pain
h o w e v e r
i also can’t seem to forget
never stop talking about your journey
there will be people who don’t understand that
it isn’t about wanting to stay hurt
it’s always about trying to figure out
how not to be.
it was hard
understanding that eventually
it would stop
eventually it wouldn’t be
so cold
i knew it would be beautiful
but somehow it seemed like it would never end.
- the coldest winter
i am not allowed
to call myself different
when there’s a word
for what i have.
- depression
i kept going
not because i wanted to
trust me, all of me wanted to stop.
i kept going
because i deserved to know
what not giving up on myself felt like.
your love
cut so deep
pain sharp
like a stencil against my body to trace over
- infliction
i felt like i died
at least a million times over
- modern-day feline
i do the best i can
helping everyone i know become better
while they stick around
watching me become worse
it’s rarely a discussion
we aren’t talking about it as much as we should
however, when someone who suffers
within
mental illness dies
you show up for their funeral
and you can’t believe it actually happened
now they’re floating around
on the internet
in pictures
in videos
in all of these memories
. . .
you care.
right?
and
i’ve convinced myself
that no one would want to be with
someone so sad like me anyway
- idle mind
don’t try to get into my head
and make me believe the solution
is in this capsule
as if all of these years i’ve spent
living
thinking
and feeling
could be fixed that easily
- Zoloft
as if talking aloud to someone
who tells me everything i tell myself
when i have a clear spot in my brain
will make the clutter
in my brain
just magically clean itself up
i doubted it
but i went anyway
i sat across from a woman who seemed so pleasant
and eager to help
i kept going because i guess that’s what i was
supposed to be doing
but
what exactly is she
supposed to be doing?
what are these pills
SUPPOSED to be doing?
because whenever i have idle time
i’m reminding myself that i don’t have nine lives
and if i try again i might actually strike out.
i might actually end up tearstained
makeup smothered
on a cold corpse that no longer looks anything like me
because
dying seemed to be the only thing that made sense to me
however
i went again anyway.
she looked at me
with love in her heart
pain in her voice
and defeat in her eyes
and in that moment
i knew
i wouldn’t be going back
- therapy sessions
to wake up every day
telling myself i feel like living today
as if it were that easy