When my need to be held
Meets my crippling fear of being taken cared for

My body is in pain.
All I want to do sleep.
But my brain won't shut up, saying I'm not doing enough.

When despair is too much.
When life is too heavy.
And asking for help is impossible.
Where can I hide?

I can ask for what I don't know.
I don't know how to help me.
And you don't see me crying right in front of you.
So this is where I hide.

Where I can write when words are too hard.
Where I can exist in silence.

Even though I want to be held.

Have you ever felt
Like you were living your life,
In third person?

Like the person you are,
The body you use,
It doesn't really belong to you.

Like you're just the observer?
Life is a movie,
And you've got a front row seat.

I'd like control of my body please.

I want to go home.
I'm tired, please let me go.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go home.
I just wanna go home.

"You haven't even left yet"

"Hey, are you okay?"

I am drowning.
Fire licks my lungs,
anvils sit in my stomach.
Fingers snake around my wrists pulling me down.
Chains clink as they tether themselves to my ankles.
My throat is being crushed by that monster.
My mouth is covered.
My watery tears are enough to overcome this.
I cannot scream.
I cannot cry.
The bags in my eyes grow deeper.
Darker.
I am a shell of what I was.
I cannot see what is in front of me.
I can not see what could come.
I am drowning.

"I'm fine. Just tired."
Exhausted.
I smile.

If they died what would you do?
I cry when they leave and sometimes when they're right next to me.
So maybe if they died I wouldn't have tears to cry.
No that's not right.
I'd cry all day and all night until I was dry.
Until my face was tight and my eyes and throat sore.
I'd spend a lot of time in bed.
If they died.

If they died? I'd die too.
Only my death won't require my heart to stop beating,
Or my lungs to stop breathing.
Only my death will allow me to still feel the pain of desire.
The need of contact that can no longer be satisfied.
I'll still see them everywhere that the space is empty.
But I'll never get to embrace them again.
Never to kiss, or hug, or play with their hair.
You see if they died...
I'd be nothing but a shell.
Because the rest of me would be buried with them.

I'm sorry I can't help your depression
But I'm dealing with mine.