it's hard
because
i'm still so loyal to the part of me
  that wants to die
  and wants to destroy what i have.

it's hard
because
sometimes i wish that i
  could still be that person.

it's hard
because
i'm still so possessive of
  the darkness i'm trying to rid myself of
  the girl whose shoulder i used to cry on at night
  the boy who doesn't want to look me in the eye
  the razors i hide in my dresser
  the ways in which i hurt myself
  the bags under my eyes that remind me
  of how i want to be sick.

it's hard
because
i'm working to change the way
  i look at life
  and how my thought processes work.

it's hard
because
this fight looks like it'll last
  for the rest of my life,
  and i suppose i'm supposed to say
  that'll be a long time.

it's hard
because
i don't actually know what i want
  and that makes everything
  much more confusing
  than it needs to be.

it's hard
because
it's life.