there was a time i was,
someone.

i used to feel the cold.
I've not turned the boiler on in 4 years.

i used to dress in clothes,
and care what they look like.

i've not cut my hair in nearly 10 years.

i've not been to the doctor in over ten years.
the dentist in 12.

i've not read a book in nearly 14 years.
i read over a thousand before i was 16.

i used to listen to people.
now i couldn't care less.

i used to exercise and care about my appearance,
now i walk around naked and don't get dressed.

I used to leave the house.
i still do,
but i long for home.

i used to respond to my texts,
now i've changed my number.

i used to have friends,
now i hate them.

they still try,
but when they look me in the eyes -

they know i'm not who i used to be.

i used to be scared to die,
now i'm only too scared to **** myself.

i used to think i had talents and qualities,
now my only issue is that i'm too much of coward to end my life.

i'm suicidal,
but too pathetic to do anything about it.

So i just exist in nothingness.
Understanding life and understanding myself,
but i can't find reason,
or purpose,

and i don't even care.

i used to be a human being.

now i'm just a black hole where a soul used to be.

I drowned all my memories of you,
and let them drift to the bottom;
sea foam bubbled as you sank, and the thick green froth gurbbled when you plunged-
into the abyss, my cavern of exile.

I had to **** you so I could live;
but the fish, too, became intoxicated,
and so they were gone; crushed coral littered your descent into the black ink, to the places my mind won't reach.

My feet placed firmly, barefoot, caloused, in the chilled sands of time,
watched the water go still, and the sounds of life, birds, and the wind ceased, all the while the salty smell of defeat rest across the monotone blue.

I had to **** you.

I've never liked Valentines Day
Don't think I ever will
Never received a single flower
No bouquet to put on a window sill
No heart box full of chocolates
No card with a cute, witty note
No red balloon or small stuffed animal
No tiny gift wrapped with rope
Single, all alone, that's how its always been
No one to be romantic with
Just me, myself, no men
Some people say it's for the better
Don't have to deal with heartbreaks
Never understood why this is
always assuming I've made too many mistakes
I blame this all on me
Don't try to ask me why
I guess you could say i'm scared of being hurt
So to myself I have to lie
I've never liked Valentines Day
Don't think I ever will
Never received a single flower
No bouquet to put on a window sill.

When you listen to those songs you used to love when you were younger
those moods you used to get in come flooding back.
How you used to dream in those songs, about leaving that town,
about growing out of that heartache,
about molding into those dreams.

But you listen to them now
and you feel that pain you used to feel
it hits you like a coma of sadness
you can't move, you can't breathe, you can't feel,
but you can hurt, so you do for a while,
you think of how you've grown
for the better, for the worse.

You remember how you thought those hits back then were tough,
or how you thought that pain back then hit bone deep.
Now all you feel is this nostalgia of what you thought pain really was and you slowly start to realize that was the little leagues,
you were the sad little kid on the bleachers but now you're not even on the **** team.

You run this show solo
and more afraid than ever.

But being afraid and alone is better than being afraid with the masses
because you know you're stronger now,
you know you can take this,
your bones have gotten solid,
your blood has gotten thick.

But you know what?

Blood will always be ******* blood and it will always bleed just like it used to back then.

I was sick, so i sent out pictures of myself in blankets,
curled up miserably in bed with six boxes of tissues beside me
and each of my friends sent me their love in response.

I was sick,
so when you asked,
i listed my symptoms like they were my favorite actors and you promised you’d give me yesterday’s homework.

I was sick,
so i accepted soup and tea and let myself complain loudly.
But when i was too sad to function or having a panic attack or unable to stomach another day of being broken,
i sent out no pictures of myself.
Even though i was wrapped up, miserable and alone in sweaty blankets, surrounded by six boxes of tissues.
I told no one what was happening,
i said, “I’m fine, i’m tired, it’s been a long week,”
i lied through my sorry teeth and made myself walk through each day like a battlefield.

And i accepted no help because i didn’t deserve it,
took no time off because i couldn’t afford it.

I was sick, sure,
but it wasn’t real enough and when i was growing up, unless i was throwing up, i was alive enough to get things done
so i told myself i wasn’t sick at all,
just too lazy and stupid to focus,
just a big disappointment.

I was sick but i didn’t want to ask for attention or make people think i was too weird to be their friend or be one giant burden.

I was sick so i suffered in silence.