I wonder if you think of me
As I do of you,
I wonder if you miss me
I'm such a fool,
I wonder if you'd ever tell me
What I've put you through,
Soon I will be just a memory
Of someone you once knew,
As I fade away know that,
Once upon a time
I loved you ...
Did you ever love me too?
i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.
i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.
let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.
because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
i tell you that i have been to four.
names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.
let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
tragic, isn’t it.
you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.
let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.
tragic, isn’t it.
Sometimes it just happens
For no reason
I never expect it
But suddenly I feel it deep inside
I can't breathe or think
I can't cry or smile
I just feel numb
And it's almost worse than feeling sad
I tell myself I don't care
I feel scarce.
sometimes I feel afraid to breathe, the world keeps turning and in the end, i am unacknowledgeable.
I used to believe that pain had
some kind of cosmic
could only go so far then strengthen me
I've been branded with a much deeper, darker,
wider, weeping & gnashing of teeth
type of pain of which I thought was
reserved for an un-earthly
Now I know it can exist
long before death so far as I can
I'm still believing You Lord that we were always only passing thru
If you are a suicide survivor
Inbox me your name
And I’ll add it to my tattoos of others
You guys mean the world to me
And I have my own name on my arm
Because I too, am a suicide survivor.
Inbox me your name. Make this go viral so I get names. Hopefully it inspires someone to fight a little harder. Anyone wanna join me?
If you understand I’m sorry. Stay strong friend.
— The End —