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Dec 2014 · 505
I'm Trying
Ada Nightingale Dec 2014
To "We only have each other,"
I'm trying, I promise

I'm trying not to fall in love with a girl,
Because no matter how many times you say you're okay with it,
When I tell you, "Mother, I'm in love"
Your face will light up
And you'll ask me "What's his name?"
I'll try, as hard as I can, not to look you in the eye
When I tell you that 'his' name is Christa
But I'll look up just soon enough to see your face drop, even if it's just for half a second
It doesn't matter if you spend the next three hours smothering me with statements like
"It's okay"
"You're still my daughter"
"I'll always love you"
The only thing that I'll remember is that half a second of disappointment
Which will haunt me for weeks after
Every night I'll go to my room,
Silently, I will scratch my stomach raw,
Because that hurts, but it won't scar,
And I'll cry, silently,
And my body will shake and my head will pound and my chest will ache
You'll be in the room next to me
You won't hear a sound
You'll be too busy coming to terms with the fact that I'll never give you grandkids
So I'm trying to keep you happy
I'm trying, I promise

To "I couldn't do this with anyone else,"
I'm trying, and I'm waiting

I'm trying to be honest with you
I told you I like girls,
I told you that I haven't been happy in years,
And, in return, you told me about the times that you forgot how to breathe
Every time we talk about it, I never tell you how bad it can really get
I tell you little things
They shock you
Which is why I feel like I could never tell you the big ones
I'm trying to be good enough for you
But I'm also waiting
I'm waiting for the day that you snap
For the day when you scream at me
Tell me that you're tired of my non existent problems
And how pathetically sensitive I am
And you throw me away for good
I'm trying to convince myself that you'd never do that
I'm trying, and I'm waiting

To "What if we had met then,"
I'm trying; I wonder if you're trying, too

I'm trying to make up for the fact that when I first saw you
I was cold and cruel
Because I was following the rules
And they wanted me to 'fix' you
I'm also trying to make up for the fact that when I really met you,
Almost two years later
I was drowning and I had my demons in display
So you decided to show me yours as well
We didn't say much
"I understand"
"Sometimes I feel that way too"
"You're gonna be alright"
And then we both put our demons into boxes
Securing them with padlocks and satin bows
We didn't speak of it since
Despite that, I keep hearing that day in your voice
There are times where you have to lean down to find my eyes,
And you say "Good Morning" with terrifying caution
Not knowing whether I'll reply
But never again have I heard the words,
"I understand"
"Sometimes I feel that way too"
"You're gonna be alright"
Because really, mental illness is one of those dark caves where the last thing you need is sympathy
I don't know about you, but sometimes all I want is sympathy
I'm trying to stop having shallow conversations with you
Dancing around our misery and pretending we don't know
I want us to be there for each other
For real, this time
I'm trying; I wonder if you're trying, too
Oct 2014 · 348
Nothing More
Ada Nightingale Oct 2014
They say that the person that you are during depression
Isn’t your real self
Which means that those who are depressed from a young age
Never found their real selves
It’s terrifying to realise
That I’m nothing more than my disorder

The depression is a blanket over my existence
And with enough effort
I could pull it off
But what would I find underneath?
A clean slate
For I am nothing more than my disorder

My life will never have a purpose
I will never fall in love
There’s nothing that I could ever be admired for
I will never grow old
Because I’m just a child
And I am nothing more than my disorder

I can no longer tell whether this condition of mine
Is mental or physical
I treat every day as if I have an infinite amount left
As if I can make up for wasting today
When in reality, I have less time than most others
And I am nothing more than my disorder

In order to function like a normal human being, I need drugs
Without my happy pills
I can’t sleep
I can’t eat
I can’t speak
But even with them, I’m a poor excuse for a person
In reality, I’m nothing more than my disorder

I'm a collection of painful thoughts
And repetitive, meaningless memories
I hate every inch of this body
And every crevice of this mind
This is what my disorder has made me
Now I'm nothing more...

— The End —