I love my bed.
I can cry on it for hours; days.
It loves me.
It listens.
It understands.

Help.
What a word.
People say I need lots of it,
but I already have it overflowing.
Maybe I need to get larger containers?

Can I trust myself?
My mind is screaming, yelling
for me to do drastic things.
My body quivers before it,
but it isn't ready to concede.

I can't control myself.
I guess that's true.
So I went to ask my bed for advice.
It told me to leave.
Leave everyone who hated me,
and leave everyone who thinks I'm mad.
and at this point, I'm ready to listen to that.

I can stay here,
on this cold Earth.
Tucked away in a corner,
crying a new ocean.
Or I can make a new planet,
far away.
A place I can live on;
A place where I can stay.