thank god for the battle
between me myself and i
i've been dancing with my pain
drinking with my demons
sleeping with more than just a little
teenage angst
making out in the back room
with none other than depression himself

i have
so many beautiful things surrounding me
but they **** me
strangle me
smother me
suffocate me
under false promises
broken pretenses

a lover's war
more than a quarrel
a battle to the blood
breaking down to the gravel
am i making love to the devil again?
simply because he
holds me, consoles me, relieves me
of all the problems
he brings into my life
over and over again.

Why did you take me off medication?
I said I was feeling better
You thought that meant ready
But just because the symptoms begin to dissipate
Does not mean the disease has been cured.
I never used it as a crutch
But now I start to feel as though it was one.
Something to keep me balanced
To keep me at a flat line
Rather than constantly spiking up and down
Left and right
In different directions.
I don't think a person can just stop being
Manic depressive and anxious.
PTSD doesn't simply
Go away.
That mood disorder, similar to bipolar,
That I cannot pronounce does not just
Fade out over time.
It is always there, it is just managed.
Now with no medicine
No therapy
No help from those who are supposed to be there for me
What am I to do?
I purge
I drink
I smoke
And that is the best of it all.
Shortly after I begin to sink.
You may think I am being melodramatic
But this is the life of a self-medicating person
Who has nowhere else to turn.

I hear people echo
"I don't want to just survive
I really want to live."
But what if surviving is hard enough on it's own?
What if it takes every molecule of my strength
Just to get out of bed?
What if my past, and traces of it
Including those bits surrounded by ashes
Infect every crevice of my being?
How can I
"Live life to the fullest"
If my body and my mind do not want
To let me live at all?
Perhaps the worst part is
I have no desire
For any Prince Charming
Or dark, mysterious man riding in on a stallion
To come swoop in and save me from myself.

I feel it coming on.
It attacks my system
With every weapon on the front line.
It wreaks havoc on my gut
When I am stressed, when I am hurting
Suddenly, my body starts to tingle
And it aches, and aches, and aches.
The pangs of panic and regret
Pierce their way into my midsection.
As my mouth begins to salivate
I know exactly what needs to be done
To make this pain disappear.
I excuse myself, neatly and politely
How ******* ironic
As I go to do one of the messiest things
I have ever done.
It's not emotional
At first
Just business as usual.
I close my eyes
Zone out
As I stick two, three fingers down my throat.
I feel the tension
As it begins to gag
Tighten, release, tighten, release
Until I can no longer breathe.
Tears begin to form
And I begin to cough, uncontrollably.
Finally, everything
All the sadness
All the lonely
All the anxiety
Is ejected from my body.
I sit on the ground
Completely calm, yet I am shaking
It is a similar feeling post-purge as it is post-cigarette
I lean against the stall
My knees pressed to my chest.
I am not sad
But I am crying.
Thinking
"What have I done?"
"How has it gotten this far?"
My legs feel like jelly
And my arms are heavier than I remember.
My head begins to roll back
As my neck is giving out on me.
It feels like I am going to lose myself
But somehow, I do not pass out.
I am snapped back into reality when
I hear someone come into the bathroom
I'm in public?
I forgot.
I walk out, emotionless and unaffected
I have done this so many times before
That I have a gigantic capacity for acting.
My body maybe cured of its physical traumas
But there is still an extreme feeling of nausea
In my heart.