The book that I was raised on said we killed You today. That it took three days and You rose again. I believed it. I still do. But it says You're always with us. And honestly. I'm starting to wonder Where?
Don't forget to take your medicine. Sometimes, its pills that have the serotonin that our brain forgot to make. But sometimes, our medicine is hot showers after a good cry. Sometimes, its remembering that there are dogs that haven't been pet yet. Sometimes, it waking up early in the morning and drinking a cup of hot coco while sitting in the quiet. Sometimes, its putting on a robe that just came out of the dryer. So yeah. Don't forget to take your medicine.
I want to die, oh God, not again. "What can I do to help, babe?" I don't know, I don't know. Laying on the floor trying so hard Not to grab the knives you collect in your drawer To find the sharpest one Test each blade on my skin. Not to die because I know people need me But just to release some of this ******* pressure in my chest, so no I don't know how you can help. Have a maple tap? Just put it in my artery and let me drain Because I'm so full of anger and longing and I don't know how to process this **** and no you can't help me my therapist is helpless and I don't know how to fix this. So please just *******, okay? Wait no, I didn't mean it. You know what, whatever. ******* too, **** everything.
With a sigh of relief the numbness is back. I wake up in the morning waiting for when I can take my medicine and go back to sleep. I'm not abusing it. I take it when I'm supposed to. But sleep is my favorite past time because nothing hurts when I sleep.