You got your first job at a hotel
You said it was fine but didn’t realize
That you’d bitten off more than you could chew
Until 4 AM the next day
When you called your boyfriend and
Showed up at emergency

Swore your anxiety was better and yet
You couldn’t hit the push-to-talk button
Called the hospital with your phone instead
Because the 5 extra meters of distance
From the hospital door really made a difference

The nurse gave you a couple hotlines to call
Next thing you knew you were crying on a park bench
Talking to a mental health worker over the phone
At 6 in the morning

You always seem fine until you start talking
Holding tears in until your thoughts
Escape through your mouth
For you to hear them out loud
Because that’s when you realize these things
Are more than just words

You still ended up at the hospital
As directed by the confusing-but-supportive
Mental health worker

Just as you did over the phone
You insist you aren’t suicidal
Whenever necessary
You feared being admitted again
But you wouldn’t say this aloud

...

After dropping off your prescription slip
With a grocery store application form hidden in your jacket
You quit your first job

Your mom wasn’t angry
Like you were worried she would be
But you still haven’t told your dad
Because he seemed so proud
And the first thing of significance
That you told the mental health worker
Was that you feel like a disappointment