There are days that my head feels too heavy for my neck to carry. Days that I wish my thoughts had a mute button or I could scream loud enough for them to find their way out of my mind. The truth is the demons have made their beds here, they've hung their pictures on the wall and painted the walls grey. I think they're here to stay. They've been flooding the place too often lately and I've been meaning to stick an eviction notice on their door but got too busy trying to teach myself how to breathe underwater. I don't like asking for help, I'd rather stare at the people in the windows. What their life is like, I don't know. I still convince myself it's better than mine. I don't like admitting that the pain doesn't hurt anymore. Somedays I just feel it more than others. My screams are silent and my tears are dry when they stream down my face. No one hears a thing. No one see's a thing. I am the deer in headlights that refuses to move out of the way, but the car swerves around me every time. Death has invited me over for dinner and life gave me a curfew. I wish the blood on my wrists didn't stain the clothes of the people who love me. I just don't know how to live in this skin when being alive is killing me. When being alive is keeping them happy.
I don't think living is supposed to feel like hands around my neck. Maybe one day it won't be so hard to breathe.