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i remember feeling the hard lump in my throat
you told me everything would okay
but i couldn’t bring myself to believe you.
For months, i was a different person
but with the same face, hair and name --
a name that quite frankly,
didn’t feel like mine.
That part of me was ripped away
and torn to shreds.
Because the me you used to know,
had to swallow and medicate to feel even a
little bit okay.
The medication made it even harder
to pull myself out of the dark and
rip off the covers.
It took a long two weeks to get
used to the feeling of being a living zombie,
only to have to strengthen the dose.
Afterall, you can’t medicate a broken heart
and no amounts of sertraline
can truly take away the thoughts in your head.
Thoughts of a better life,
with no more hurt and acceptance.
But then you come back
and rid me of any chance i had
of getting away.
i don’t remember the last time i truly
felt like myself.
i look in the mirror and see me,
but it’s not me.
it’s the idea of what i could’ve been,
the idea of who i could’ve become.
But that idea will never be me,
and i don’t want to medicate anymore.
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