Put here without permission,
but met with anger when I want to leave.'

Everyone's offended that it's not for me,
as if that says more about them than it does me.

Yet somehow I'm the selfish one,
the weak one, the dysregulated **** up.

If I could go back maybe I'd choose less stress,
something that made the other ******* seem less.

All I know is I can't stand to be here as is,
it's hard for me to get much done or feel much, that is.

Sure, occasional moments where I feel fine,
no longer longing for former highs.

But normally I'm searching for a crutch,
something to numb me or pick my mind up.

So don't ***** at me for considering a way out,
or cite reasons to stay that I don't care about.