Mental illnesses are not something to be envious of
There is nothing beautiful about being up at 4am at the fall of the moon
And the constant dull ache inside of you that never stops
With the hope that this pain will go away sometime soon

There is nothing cute about cutting your wrists
Hiding the evidence in a hurried, panicked mess
And hoping you'll be the only one to know
About the relationship with depression, who leaves you feeling helpless

There is no reason to be envious over the girl panicking in the car park,
Sobbing, shaking, running out of breath,
Throwing up because of a fast heart beat,
And feeling like you're seconds away from death

So what is beautiful about Crimson coloured wrists, wet cheeks and sobbing so hard you throw up?
Because last time I checked
Pain isn't beautiful
Pain is raw, honest and destructive.

7pm
My friends bring you up in conversation for the first time in months. I say it was for the best, couldn't have worked out anyway.

9pm
On my own again. I can't close my eyes without thinking about you. This alcohol is burning through my body.

11pm
My vision is distorted, all my mind is clearly focused on is your voice.

11.30pm
Wondering if you ever think of me, or my voice. Wondering if you miss the "good morning" as soon as you wake up. Wondering if it sounds as homely coming from her.

1am
I thought I was doing fine. Whenever you come up in conversation my heart starts racing and I can't stop thinking about how you made me feel, how we made each other feel.

2am
This is torture.

3am
Red eyes and wet cheeks. Please miss me back. Please call me and tell me.

4am
I want to call you. I want nothing more than to hear your voice again.

5am
Wondering if it killed a part inside of you like it killed a part of me. Wondering if I'll ever get that part back.

6am
Black coffee and 10 cigarettes. I wish I could **** this habit as much as I could quit smoking if I wanted to. I know how much you couldn't stand my cigarette and alcohol kisses.


7am
I break down again when I realise I'm nothing more to you than a memory.

10am
Baggy eyes and unbrushed hair. Yes, I am okay, just a little tired.

9pm
He's not you. But he's here and you're not.

you came along in summer when I was blooming,
although,
as the months
went
by
I started loosing my petals
and even though you noticed the absence of them,
you stayed
but with hesitation that I have seen so often before.

as a year went by
you were still here
still hesitating
and then you told me you didn't want me anymore
and I understand
because she has a full set of petals
and I am simply a stem
but you have no idea how difficult it is to stay standing when it rains all the time