Believe me, I care for you.
I do not know your full story,
and I can't look into your thoughts.
I have no waked in your shoes,
and I may have not gone through what you have.
I may never even understand,
but I know it's hard, and I know it feels hopeless.
I get what it feels like wanting to sleep forever,
as if it would make things better.
I know how it feels to be scared of what's inside,
and you fear for if people knew.
I feel for you when you think you can't change,
when you feel like this monster is a part of you.
You hate what you've become,
But at the same time it's the only escape.
It's an addiction--all of it--
and it's hard to get over.
Suicide may feel like the only solution,
but there's something that keeps you alive.
I love you, and I care for you.
I don't know you, but I truly do.
And because I do, I can't help but share this.
I'm broken.
I've given my life to God,
but I'm not close to being perfect,
and if you read through my poems,
you'll see I have some of the dark thoughts you do.
But I also have peace amidst this storm,
and I have a hope in my Lord.
God has gotten me so far,
and as He continues to work through my life,
I have peace and hope in His plan,
knowing He will continue to deliver me.
I want you to experience this as well,
because I care for you.
I'm here to talk.

Anxiety.  

Anxiety is not a friend you want at your door giving you a high five and is excited to spend the night.
Anxiety is that skin scratching, pencil tapping, binge eating friend that appears like snow on a summer day.  
It comes out of nowhere. And sometimes you know you're about to start breathing heavily and wanting to lie down.
It's the feeling you get
when the love of your life says "Can we talk?"
when you lay in bed and you hear sounds
when you're in the hospital room and someone comes out with tears in their eyes towards you.
Anxiety is not that Christmas present you've been wanting all year...

i wanted
to grow
up
too fast
rush things
too fast
and
now
i
dont
know
where
my life
has went
-(cpm)

Does your kiss
Still taste
Like everything
I drank to forget?

Cuts on my wrists
hands curled into fists
will i even be missed

Writing a note
i wrote
i love you and it wasn't your fault

That's a lie
i want to die and
its partly your fault

I can't tell you that so i
Sit and i cry

Why do i
Live like this

Will i even be missed

As i sit in my room,
after the sound of shattering tungsten
darkness envelopes

i lack eyes that can see anymore
lack ability to hear in the audible silence
lack everything but the ability to feel

and so i feel