My body’s not broken
Maybe just my soul is then,
If it’s not my brain it’s just my psyche,
There really is nothing that I can get right.

I knew it wasn’t possible,
To be really loved by somebody else,
But this was what I preferred:
To feel so bad about what I did but be aware he didn’t actually care.
I hope he didn’t.

It’s just a part he can’t remember,
My friends told me he claimed to want the same, for us to end, only to make me feel better.
To do that he must have really thought so,
That I was good somewhere inside,
Even though I knew he just couldn’t see my darknesses,
But how could that be? I never did believe.
Surely he just wanted to make the rejection less,
If I used that it would have been to ease the embarrassment, pretend it wasn’t wrong.

Maybe it’s just easy,
To forget
Well, I know how easy it is to forget my whole existence,
No one ever knows when I’m there.

Before when I thought about how bad it was for him,
I did believe it because he was so
Everything
It seemed so true,
Not that it ever counts for much but I guess it was different.
However there was her,
He liked her not just before but afterwards,
I wasn’t jealous, I just pointed out that he didn’t like her
We weren’t her biggest fans together, I know that’s sad.
But if I was the middle and she was the
Start and end,
Maybe I was just a rebound of a crush, huh?

That would’ve been me trying to make myself feel better,
I feel guilty for even wondering this,
When he did everything right and
I was everything wrong.
Perhaps I really did just want attention.
The thing it taught was to never trust myself: mind or heart.
Both of these are always wrong
When it comes to the messed up person that is me.

I don’t think I’m capable
Of loving someone real,
And that’s only my fault still,
I’m not attempting excuses:
I’ve never believed in them inside my own surrounding essence.

I know I should stay away,
I knew it but still I played
With my imagination of wondering if anything could be an actuality,
It’s wrong, so wrong of me - but it was just a conversation,
And now I feel a mess over something so stupid, so small.
Of course I shouldn’t have meant anything at all.

Who is this young girl,
Thinking she has the right to be in my office?
I pretend to be nice,
I do all the tests,
After all, I can’t risk her suing for neglect.

I comfort her, by telling her it’s stress,
Indeed yes, this is all in her head.
I let her tell me all of her symptoms,
She must be a hypochondriac because how else would she have come up with all of that?
Nevertheless, so she can’t say I haven’t done my job,
I send her for an MRI and EEG,
I also use my favourite words:
I tell her it’s nothing sinister.

I can’t believe she’s wasting my time,
She has anxiety, her brain is all fine!
Now that I’ve ridden her off of my list,
I can move onto to patients, who are actually sick.
She walks in looking young and healthy,
Does she really expect me to believe her?
She’s too young to be sick, and all her tests say are that she needs a psychiatrist, not a neurologist.
I give the advice I’ve learnt from my medical degree, “just get on with life and do whatever you were doing. Go to university, you’ll be just fine! You can’t keep relying on your family forever.”
Poor them, they must be really fed up of her,
She’s just too lazy to make her own food, to get out of bed, to go alone to the toilet unaided.
Yeah, she can still go to university, it’s not like she needs 24/7 care in case she falls down the stairs!

I tell her she doesn’t need those crutches that she uses,
I tell her she’s wrong about social anxiety, although she says it’s much better and I’ve only known her five minutes,
She’s just stressed, her diagnosis is functional.

Six months later her MRI and EEG are normal,
But I already knew it would be,
I advise her doctor to sort her out with a psychiatrist, even though she’s already seen one because I don’t get paid to actually listen to people.
A year later and she’s trying to get another neurologist appointment?
We can’t be having that, let’s make her referral disappear!
She’s told an ophthalmologist she’s having temporary loss of vision, flashes of light?
Who even cares? It’s just in her mind.
She’s chased up how her urgent referral hasn’t be fulfilled in a month,
I guess I’ll have to write her doctor a letter then,
I’ll say it’s just migraine auras because when I saw her she was fine.
She’s only pretending to be disabled,
After all it’s functional so she must be pretty messed up inside.

I’m a doctor so people know I’m smart,
So I get good money,
I don’t need to actually believe my patients and look for things that are not obvious to see.
I’ll make sure she feels like she’s going crazy and will never be helped or believed.

I tell myself I don’t want him,
I tell myself,
I tell myself
But then I cry so hard
Going in reverse to a place that I’ve never yet been.

It’s supposed to get easier,
That’s what they tell you,
But this is only ever weighing heavier.
I could try to be what I imagine you’d have wanted,
But why should your mistakes make me feel ashamed?
And because of my existence I never
Want to give you what you want.

I guess I should hide the anger from my eyes,
But why prevent it when all you feel is volatile and pathetic?
Complaints when I hold it in and accusations when I don’t,
Sometimes I feel I should just hold kindness for myself.

When I have time I feel exhausted,
Later I feel like a failure to have let him win again:
It shouldn’t matter,
It shouldn’t matter.
They’d probably tell me negative affirmations don’t work,
Except to me they’re stating positives.
I’m trying to make it okay,
I’m trying to be better.

Always, I say, I don’t want him
And now his nonexistent thoughts won’t go away,
It must be my fault for becoming upset because really he’s done nothing
(Even if I can’t claim that without my own blood boiling),
Teasing myself with non-realities, with fairytales and broken dreams of a type of heaven I will never see.

My small voice murmurs,
“I want it, please.”
My brain tells me it would be better not to breathe.
In the dark it likes to help me,
Supporting in my self-destruction,
Simply because why shouldn’t it?
It’s a weapon I can use to back up anything no matter the relevance.
I’ve subtracted all the logical ways this could ever matter,
Yet it’s still here waiting for me to succumb,
Lately it gets pointless to want to hold back.
Nevertheless, with every single thought I have a defence
Because I never want anyone else to win,
I need to be ready,
I need to be able to show them all:
That this never meant a thing to me.

That just wouldn’t make sense,
To admit such sacrificial things
When I shouldn’t be the one to feel bad,
So no, just because I know it’s his fault,
Does not mean his absence hurts me.

It’s all just softly (painstakingly) nonexistent to me.