there are two voices in my head
one is soothing and low and warm across my skin
and one is like a sudden bloom of thorns in my chest
poking holes in my lungs so i gasp for each breath
i try to only listen to the soothing voice
who tells me i am wise even though i am young
and eventually i'll make the right choice
but the voice like thorns is assertive and loud
and she doesn't let herself be drowned out

she tells me i'm worthless
i'm fat
stupid
unloveable
annoying

i'll never be as pretty as her
no one wants someone who looks like me
who's been tainted by ****
who is broken and incomplete

and she is LYING and i know she is lying
but she
is a VERY
good
liar

so i believe her
and her insidious lies
and i stare longingly at the razor sharp knives in my kitchen drawer and i updated my suicide note for the umpteenth time because this time like all times i am filled with sick, twisted hope

maybe
this time
i'll do it

maybe
this time
i won't get caught

maybe
this time
i will finally die
in peace

because my existence is this weird paradox
where i don't want to die
but to live is almost worse
it's so much work
it takes so much effort
just to get out of bed and survive
i can't even fathom what it would be like to thrive