Good Enough
Why is it that when it comes to work-
Schoolwork, housework, any work-
That good enough is never enough?

But when it comes to me,
Good enough is all I ever wanted to be.
.............................................................­...............................................................  ­                                        What's the Point?
What's the point of faking, saying, "I'm fine,"
If I'm not even gonna act like it?
.............................................................­...............................................................

I'm breaking.
No, not breaking.
I'm broken.

I'm not going.
I'm already gone.

But do you notice?
No, not notice.
Do you care?

And when I say I'm ok,
I'm actually (br)ok(en).

I find a way to relate anything and everything to home.
Oh look, it's a bag of chips.
               I used to eat chips at home.
Oh look, it's a pencil.
               I used to use pencils at home.

And each time it makes me cry.

Someone passes by me wearing perfume that smells like Mom's,
I start crying.
I see the words mom, dad, parents, home, family,
I start crying.

Am I just a crybaby?
Or am I allowed to feel sorry for myself once in a while?
Because if you were in my place, you would too.
Anyone would.
Don't deny it.

Please just let me feel sorry for myself now.
Don't call me weak.
Don't call me over-sensitive.
Don't call me a baby.
Don't tell me to cheer up.
Don't tell me to focus on the good.
Don't tell me to shut up.
Don't say I'll be okay.
Don't say it'll all be over soon.
Don't say I'll get over it.

Just let me cry.

The devil asked me how I knew my way around the halls of hell. I told him I didn't need a map for the darkness I know so well.

I'm fine.
I'm fine
I'm fin
I'm fi
I'm f
I'm
I'
I
I'
I'm
I'm a
I'm al
I'm alo
I'm alon
I'm alone
I'm alone.

My depression is a shapeshifter.
One day it is as small as a firefly
In the palm of a bear.
The next day,
It is the bear.

On those days,
I play dead until the bear leaves me alone

The best thing about hangman
Is that it teaches you that saying the wrong thing
Can end soneone's life.

How do I explain?
How do I explain to my mom and my dad?
How do I explain that sometimes I want to die?

I don't.
I hide it all and
Pretend that I'm okay.

How do I explain?
How do I explain to my best friend?
How do I explain why I'm not okay?

I don't.
I just pretend to laugh and
Smile through the pain.

How do I explain?
How do I explain to my therapist?
How do I explain that digging up those memories of
When I was younger
And free
Of the pain
Only makes it worse?

I don't.
I stay silent and
Stare blankly around her office.

How do I explain?
How do I explain to my sisters?
How do I explain why the spark is gone from my eyes?

I don't.
I try to hide it with my glasses and
It never works.

I am not weak.
The tears will come,
But no matter how badly I hurt inside,
I know that I can be happy on the outside.

I am not weak.
I have to say goodbye each time,
But no matter how much I want to cry,
I know there will be a "hello" before the next "goodbye."

I am not weak.
I think terrible thoughts,
But no matter how far into the dark I go,
I can always see the light.


I am not strong.
I say these things to myself when I cry,
But no matter how hard I try,
I can't make myself feel any better.

I'll be okay.
Just not today.

Because being okay
Does NOT happen on other people's schedules.

Please, please, please,
If you're not okay, don't hide it.
Right now, if you're reading this,
And you're not okay,
Post a comment.

Say, "I'm not okay."
Go ahead.
It's easier than it sounds.

I'm not okay.
But I will be.
Someday

The world's most common lie
The lie that everyone believes
The lie that escapes my lips every day.

"I'm fine."

But I'm not fine.
I'm not fine, and that's alright.

Because I'm done holding it in.
Right now, I wanna be not okay.
Just let me be not okay.

"I'm (not) fine."

I'm not fine,
And that's alright,

Just let me be not okay.

I know now why it's so hard to fall asleep.
It's because falling asleep is an escape.
An escape from reality.

And to escape is hard.


I know now why it's so hard to fall asleep.
It's because falling asleep is like a free trial.
A free trial of death.

And there's always a catch to free trials.

How do I tell you that
Sometimes I just really wanna die?
I don't even know
How I'm gonna get by
Just for one day
I wanna be okay.

But Mama don't be scared
I'm not going anywhere
I'll be here for you
I'll find a way to get through
Every single day
that I'm not okay.

I once cut my arm
Only time I ever did self-harm
Tryna keep my promise
that I wouldn't
But that day I just couldn't

But Mama don't be scared
I'm not going anywhere
I'll be here for you
I'll find a way to get through
Every single day
that I'm not okay.

But Mama don't be scared
I'm not going anywhere
I'll be here for you
I'll find a way to get through
Every single day
that I'm not okay.

One day I told my best friend
That surely this was the end
I feel like I'm dying
But honestly I'm trying

And Mama don't be scared
I'm not going anywhere
I'll be here for you
I'll find a way to get through
Every single day
that I'm not okay.

But Mama don't be scared
I'm not going anywhere
I'll be here for you
I'll find a way to get through
Every single day
that I'm not okay.

It's 3:21 am.
I've shed more tears than I thought to be humanly possible.
My thoughts are racing as I try to sleep.
"Just end it. You don't deserve to be here," I tell myself.

It's 3:46 am.
My pillow's a tissue for my tears
And as I just try to close my eyes, I think of you.

You. My sister. I miss you more than the world.
I know I've said some things.
I know I've upset you.
I know I don't deserve you.

I know so much,
Yet I can't act on any of it.

It's 4:39 am.
I look around for a distraction from my own mind, all I can see is
You.



I miss you.
And I love you.

People ask me what's wrong
And when I respond
With, "I won't say
because I want you to be okay,"

I'm given this sad, synthetically sympathetic smile.

I don't want you to try to understand what it's like for me.
I don't need your synthetic sympathy.

People say, "It's okay to be not okay,"
And its just more of your synthetic sympathy for me.

How long will it take for you to know
I will do whatever it takes to go back.
Back to being me without any synthetic sympathy.

All she wants is to fade away into the shadows
But the pain follows wherever she goes.
She wants to disappear,
To just not be here.

And as she sits on her bed looking out at the full moon,
She wonders, while she hears the peaceful calling of the loons,
How does the moon just fade away?
Every night, it's the same way.

She wants to fade away into the shadows
But the pain follows wherever she goes.
She wants to disappear,
To just not be here.

She wants to be like the moon
Disappearing each day,
Coming back each night.

She's too scared of leaving,
But staying is her worst nightmare come to life
She wants to be here for her mum and her dad,
She wants to be here for her sisters and her brothers.
But she wants to leave it all behind.

She wishes she could get into normal fights with her family
Little squabbles about whose jumper it is,
Or who did what chore.
Not over her not eating,
Or her hating herself.
She just wants life to get back to normal.

I'm sick of crying
Tired of trying
Yes, I'm smiling
But inside I'm dying

I am lost inside my head
Every time I lay in my bed
Waiting for sleep to wash over me
Sleep, that blissful nothing.

I am lost inside my heart
My emotions are tearing me apart
But that pain is nothing
Compared to how I constantly feel

I am lost within this world
This world of pain and insincerity
I wish someone would carry me
Back home to where I used to be free

Free from having to search my heart
In order to play my part

In the midst of this storm
I have to pretend to be someone
Who isn't me.

When I write these words
I'm not trying to be seen
As something I am not.
I'm not trying to sound like a deep, delicate, shattered soul.

I hope you know when I write these words,
My emotions take control
And leave me all alone
In the darkness.

When I write my poems,
It's not about some summer memories that I miss.
It's about my pain, my fear, my anxiety
Of ever trusting again.

When I write my poems,
tears flow freely down my cheeks
as I type without knowing,
But I feel every bit of the pain
that seeps through my fingers onto the screen and
into my words

Who am I?
Am I who I used to be?
Am I who I'll become?

I can say one thing for sure.
I'm not who I was.
I never used to have to cry myself to sleep before all this started.
I never used to have to talk myself down
When I just wanted it to end.
I never even wanted it to end.

That still leaves that open-ended question: Who am I?
I've lost myself.
I've not only lost myself,
I've lost everyone I ever loved.

Back to the questions.
Am I who you want me to be?
Am I who I want to be?
Am I just a machine to be reset and programmed,
Over and over again?


I've found myself.
I am an imprint of the pain
I inflicted upon myself by thinking these thoughts.
I am just a machine that doesn't think for itself.
To be reset and reprogrammed
Over and over again.

Weak.
Broken.
Over-sensitive.
Crybaby.
Nobody.
Unimportant.

Beau­tiful.
Intelligent.
Caring.
Talented.
Amazing.
Balanced.

Words.
­They can hurt.
They can heal.
Make the right choice when using them.