If i told you i needed help
would you listen?
Or would your silence
Echo off the walls.
See my life is like a car,
Sometimes moving fast
And other times so **** slow.
If i told you i feel hurt inside
would you not just hear
but listen
to what i said
I need someone to care.
Im tired of trying to fight alone.
Im tired of trying to survive at a table for one.
If i told you
I cry all over my body
And each tear is a knife
And they are leaving scars on my flesh,
Would you cut me a bandage,
Sop up my blood,
Or leave me to bleed out.
If i told you
I was alone and my demons are taunting me
would you get me out
Or would you keep walking
or keep scrolling...
Im not begging for attention,
But one cannot be expected to be alone and silent like a life long detention.
If i told you
I was ready to confess everything
Come clean from my secrets,
Strip myself naked so you could see my imperfections
would you care even the slightest bit
Or are you so selfish
And so ignorant
To walk on
And leave this person to die.
If i told you i was ready to die
would you blame it in cliche,
Or believe it and save me from damnation
Its time to think.
It could be up to you
This isnt just my world,
Its yours, too
and dont you want to be
somebody
To someone?
I need you.
Because all of these "if i told you's
Are becoming
**im telling you

i just want to cry,
scream,
throw something,
anything but this ****** numbness

The main reason I haven't killed myself yet is that if I do,
no one will know all the thoughts and ideas and dreams I've had.
No one will know exactly how my mind works.
No one will know that I think my ceiling fan looks kind of like the moon
or that I use ink across my wrist instead of a blade
or that I am utterly puzzled by the universe and its secrets
or all of the questions that plague my mind when sleep deprivation has stolen my inhibitions.
My mind and all its complex mysteries would completely vanish from the world the second I
swallowed one too many pills
or made the last slash in my skin
or let gravity take me
or finally pulled the trigger.
That is the only reason I have held on so long.
It's almost as if I can pretend I matter in this world.
Almost.

Living
Getting worse
People finding out
The pity
The sugar-coated lies
The "oh, she fought so hard"
The "she just did this for attention"
The "I had no idea she was so weak and fragile"
Waking up every morning
Going to bed every night
Being alone with my thoughts
Never being able to stop
Gaining weight
Rejection
Judgement
Breaking down
Going crazy
How easy it would be
My weaknesses
My thoughts
Myself