what would happen if i just let everything stop? let the world go quiet,
the edges fuzzy,
slowly going black?

i wish people told me they were proud of me

i wish i deserved it

i like to believe that everything happens for a reason.
not in a way that makes sense,
not in a way that makes anything okay.

i don’t believe it when bad things happen to other people.
but when they happen to me,
i need to.

i don’t ask for proof.
i just ask to get through it.

maybe it’s just a story i tell myself
so i don’t fall apart.

but some days,
that story
is all i’ve got.

i wish lexapro made me feel better.
or at least numb.
anything but this hurt.

there’s a kind of sorrow
that sits beside me,
quiet, tired,
like an old friend.

some evenings,
when the light turns gold
and your voice
drifts through the silence,
i almost forget
i was ever hurting.

i hide the cuts
and call it healing.
i smile enough
to look like feeling.

i bled to feel,
then felt too much.
so now i flinch
at even touch.

no big event,
no cry for aid.
just pain, then choice,
then steel, then blade.

the scars are thin,
but memory lingers.
i still see red
between my fingers.

they call it pain,
i call it mine.
i earned the blood,
i crossed the line.

i can’t stop crying and i wish i would because someone is going to notice