It’s gotten so bad

that I don’t find comfort

In writing.

I don’t want to write

about how I’m feeling

and have complete strangers tell

me they understand

because it

shouldn’t be hard for me

to understand myself or for

family

or my so called friends

but all I hear

is an echo

of i don’t know what to say

or what to do

or it’ll get better.

For who?

For me who’s suffering

or for the people who caused me to suffer

because they no longer have me in

their lives.

Yeah I guess

it did get better for them

I’m glad all the hours i sit in the dark

all the days i don’t come out of my room

the weeks I don’t leave the house are sighs of relief to you while

I choke on the tears that form a lump in my throat and no matter how

many times i try to swallow it

It won’t go away.

It cuts up my vocal cords

so all that is left are blank eyes

On a ghost white face

With dark circles that I fall into

at night instead of sleeping.

In a body that wants to disappear

and mind that wants to destroy itself

-3/29/18