"I quit."

The times I uttered these words
Were the times I doubted
Anything that happened,
And everything that could happen.

I quit.

I quit trying to lead a life
Where I feel insignificant,
Almost as if unwanted,
And endless thoughts of how to end this.

I quit.
I want to end this.
Make it stop.
I quit.

there's always this kind of unsettled feeling,
right at the pit of your stomach,
growling, restless.
nauseating, even.

it makes you lose appetite, interest,
for the things you love the most
it makes you feel like
you'll never even get out of bed.

in times like these,
all these nasty thoughts kick in;
what hope should i have?
what am i left to do?

Maybe it's the alcohol
Running through my veins
Seeping through all of my pores
Invading my skin, crawling,
Leaving a trail of heat and numbness.

Maybe it's my mind
Trying to twist myself into
A wringing mess, unconscious,
Undesirable for the current society
Whose words weigh millions.

Or maybe it's just me.
Overthinking, in a dark room.
Laying there, paralyzed.
Contemplating. Typing. Thinking.


Tap,
       tap,
              tap.


I'm tired.

Maybe I promised myself
To never say
"I have no friends"
Because then I'd sound selfish.

But sometimes
I'd rather not call them 'friends'
Because they seem happy
Without the need to drag me.

Sometimes
I wonder what their life
Would've been
Without me.

Would it have been better?

Maybe I'm too heavy. I'm sorry, then.

My biggest fear,
I realized after drinking,
Was probably
Not being loved the same way I love.

Maybe I was terrified
Of giving too much
That people can't even give me
Even just the slightest love

Or maybe I was scared
Scared that I gave a lot of myself
To others
But they didn't want any.

Maybe I was scared of rejection.

Maybe I'm terrified of being alone
Alone, lost in my thoughts,
Unsafe with myself, and
A high risk of hurting myself.

I hate my self.

It's a wonderful thing, really
To be able to wake up
To be able to get up
To be able to do anything, actually.

Because when it hits you,
Yes, "It",
The dark entity forcing you
Down on your bed,
Its entire mouth, drowning you
As you try to breathe and stay afloat
All to no avail.

It never used to be like this.
It somehow,
managed,
To pull me deeper into the crevices.

And the worst thing is,
No matter how much you try to explain to people
How bad your situation is, trying so hard to float on that dark sea called your thoughts,
They'll simply dismiss it.

But what if
I hadn't called
For help
At all?