"You don't want to look back at your life and realize that you wasted it in front of a screen, do you?"

That's what they say.

And to them, I'd say
There are times that I feel everything around me is crumbling.
That I'm crumbling,
That my mind is turning against me.

As much as I try to fight it
I can't help the crippling depression and anxiety
that comes from seeing
a raincloud in the distance
Or sometimes, for no reason at all.

I can't control how the depression festers,
the intrusive thoughts that tell me
everyone would be be better off
if I wasn't around,
that there's a way to assure
that I'll never be caught in the rain again

I cannot count how many times I've turned to substance abuse to stop the thoughts.
I cannot count how many times the substance has worsened my condition,
Made me paranoid, Afraid of myself,
afraid of what will become of me
if i allow myself to stay

I cannot count how many moments I've had where I shoveled mountains of food into my mouth during a binge because I wasn't sure what to do with my hands.
I cannot count how many times I've punched a wall or slung everything off my desk because I needed to act impulsively in a way that would harm only myself.
I cannot count how many times I have thought of ending my own life.
I think about it every day.
More than once a day.

Sometimes I get so bad off that I can't do anything at all.
I know I can't die
my desk is already empty, i don't have the strength to throw a punch
The thought of food makes me want to *****

Those really bad times are when I turn to
my favorite TV shows for comfort

Watching a good series is like
getting ****** into a different world,
escaping from reality, all while
Being gently reminded that
there is good in this world.
that there are reasons to stay
Even if the only thing keeping me there in that moment
is the cliff hanger that was left for me at the end of the episode

If the distraction of the plot alone wasn't enough already,
the characters teach me

Katara teaches how to stand up for what you believe in and to never lose hope
Zuko teaches that you can shape your own destiny, and do what is right.
Toph teaches that you should never let another person define your abilities

Jim and Pam taught me that love doesn't always have to die as you grow older
Dwight and Angela gave me hope that things can work out in the end, even if the road is rough

Amethyst teaches that you should be comfortable with your body and its abilities
Garnet taught me to never be sorry for being who I am
Pearl taught me that it is possible to move on from losing someone you were in love with
Steven taught me that you should always stand up for what is good

Leela showed me that women can kick some SERIOUS ***, and that we should be proud of it.
Fry showed me that home is defined by being surrounded by people you love

Rick taught me that in the grand scheme of things, a lot of the things i blow up in my head are very very trivial, and that i should focus on more important things... like science!

Lastly, Morty taught me
"Nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere, everyone's gonna die, come watch TV"

i promise to make pain look beautiful,
i will make you wish for thorns instead of roses
just so you can feel my ebony words,
just so you can choke on the bitter truth
for a while.
i promise to paint love as the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen,
i will make you give everything
to have a world of your very own.
i promise to hold a permanent spot in your mind,
trail through your thoughts like music notes,
feelings so overwhelming you can’t breathe.
i promise to have you scribbling lines on any surface you can get your hands on,
post-its and notebook pages and tree bark
and your ex-lover’s lips.
i will make you ******* words, cloyingly
sweet with an acrid aftertaste once you realize
”oh, he’s not actually hers.”
i promise
to make you feel something.

Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.

Listing barbaric behaviors in class, for example (****)
It should be said first. It’s thought first (****)
But the list goes on and on: ******, slaughter, holocaust (****)
No one raises their hands to say it, never once (****)

“What’s missing?” Professor asks. The answer (****)
on my mind, on everyone’s mind, but no one says it (****)
Silence falls. He’s waiting. But still the word (****)
is left unsaid. Unspoken but echoing louder than ever (****)

Finally a girl raises her hand and says it (****)
But her voice drops on the word (****)
as if she can’t quite get it out (****?)

Why is it that we can discuss genocide, war, but never (****)
it, the word no one’s willing to say, to admit (****)
the crime, the word, that is too shameful to even speak (****)

Ripped shirts, bruised cheeks, eyes squeezed shut
Hands, stop, fists, no, screaming, fighting, giving up--
******.

There was a woman; with a heart as big as the world. And she wished for love, oh, how she needed love. She wished for poems, and music, and art. For nature, and stargazing, and wilderness. For long nights and even longer drives. She wished for a wanderer like herself. Someone who understands. But most of all - someone who loves her the same way she loves him.

Then, there was a man. A man who put his life on hold, to wait for her. A man who straightforwardly told her that she is the thought that gets him through each day. But they were different. Polar opposites. He knew of her wishes and desires and of the things that made her heartstrings flutter; but he didn't understand them. Because he didn't feel them too. And he was sweet, and warm, and safe, and comfortable, and he tried so hard. She adored him - just not in the way he wanted her to.

And then, there was another man. This man was not like the previous man. No, this man made every broken bone inside her body come alive again. This man had an inexplicable thirst for life and everything it had to offer and he cherished every moment of it. He lived in a way that he never feared death. This man made her see colors and showed her the world she used to know in a different light. He held her hand in a matter that no man ever could and no man ever will again. He opened her eyes and brought her back to life. He made her believe again. And the way he said he loves her brought her to tears each time because, for the first time, there were no lies behind those words.

But she knew. Deep down in the pit of her stomach, she knew from the start. If she were ever to leave him, the colors would fade, her hands would grow cold and she would forget what laughter tasted like. And him? He would be fine. He had a thirst for life, not for her. He would move on, possibly without looking back. And that was the problem. Because he was the voice inside her mind, and she was just a thought that crossed his from time to time. And he understood her, by god, he knew her right down to her core, better than anyone else ever has. But he didn't need her in the way she needed him.

Now any logical person would come to the same conclusion: it's always better to be with the man who loves you more than life itself; than with the man who could easily go on as if you had never been a part of his life to begin with.

*But love doesn't run on logic, does it?