When do you believe life begins?

I want to tell you, on this day,
Just how happy I am that you're alive.
No.
How happy I am that you were even born,
But I bring it up and you tell me off,
Because you don't like it.

I don't like this either, as it happens;
I feel bad for the elation I got at setting my alarm for midnight so I could make sure I messaged you first thing, and going to sleep again with a smile on my face, hoping I could help make you feel as valued as you are.

So yeah, happy birthday, sorry for caring.

Go to class, Grace.

Take your medication, Grace.

Learn to deal with your emotions, Grace.

Try to stay positive and it will all get better, Grace.

Why aren't you trying hard enough, Grace?

Why are you so quiet, Grace?

What's wrong, Grace?

I do everything. I call a psychiatrist, I take my medication, I try to hold myself together and be positive and strong and admirable. I do everything a little good girl should do. I don't listen to impulses, I stay quiet until I can't help but cry, I hold myself by threads until I can't hold on anymore.

Obviously I'm not trying hard enough. Obviously I'm being melodramatic. Obviously this is my fault.

*Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Giving up doesn't sound so bad;

No more nightmares, right?

Aren't we all so close to the end
And the beginning of things?
I am so close to the end of this day,
The beginning of my coursework,
Which I should've started three weeks ago,
And I  so close
To my next kiss
With you.