My biggest fear
Is that I'll wake up in 10 years
And still miss you

There is oxygen
but I refuse to breathe
there is light
but I dont want to see
there is life
but it doesn’t want me

Its almost like drowning,
All I can hear are the voices in my head screaming
"Do it, do it" as I stare at the knife in my hand
and I want to so ******* badly.
I don't know how strong my will is anymore,
or how much longer I'll be able to fight it.

Someone once asked me If I was okay.
I can’t remember the context of the question, or the person who asked.
But I can remember how I answered.
Could remember the way my mind thought of thousands of answers.
Could remember wanting to say no.

Heart pleading and begging, just let them in. While my mind told my heart to shut the hell up.  
Can still remember, heart ignoring the mind, screaming tell them.

Tell them how much it hurts to breathe, that every breath you take, is like trying to breathe in the thick black smoke from a fire. Even though theres something still kicking inside you that fights so hard for every little breath.

That your skin itches every time you see a knife because, even though you've never used one on yourself before, you wonder how good it would feel dragged across your skin, painting lines of barley there control with your own blood.

That you can’t lay on your side because sometimes you can hear your heartbeat that way and yours, it irritates you.

That there are two bottles of prescribed pain pills sitting on your nightstand and sometimes you just want to sleep.

That, No, you’re not as strong as you pretend to be and no, you’re not afraid of the monsters in your closet anymore, because the ones inside your head are much worse.

That you’re tired of lying awake at night staring at the ceiling as you remember every little mistake you’ve ever made.

I also remember my minds reminder that its not their burden to bear
I remember the most clearly pulling on the mask, I have spent so many years perfecting over my face, giving my best plastic smile and stating confidently, careful to keep the shake out of my voice,
“Of Course”.

Dear future whoever you are,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry if I can't seem to say the words "I love you" without stumbling over the words, or saying them really fast and running away, or them sounding stiff and forced like I don't really mean them, because I can assure you

I do

But you see the thing is

My family was never big on "I love you's"

Or affection for that matter, you see

We prefer "make sure the doors locked" being thrown over a shoulder as it rushes out the door

Or the ever so entertaining " put your seatbelt on, before I decide to test my breaks" as we are driving down a road

And just let me apologize in advance if you ever tell me that you, love me

And I freeze

It's not from shock I swear, okay maybe it is, a little bit, depending on the situation

But its probably mostly due to not being used to hearing it

I mean in the fifteen years I have under my belt so far I can't recall ever  hearing them said to me

So forgive me if I freeze, and then give an awkwardly delayed " I love you" back

And just know this

No matter how awkward or delayed or stuttered or fast it's said

I only say those three words when I mean them

And it's hard for me to say them

It really is

So dear future whoever you are

Please understand

I may not have heard them much

But I understand the meaning behind them

And just know

I love you, too