I can’t believe I’m back here.
I genuinely thought I was done with this.
I remember the first night I sat on the floor with a glistening blade in my hand,
I turned it back and forth,
It looked so new and unused
Just like I once did.
But soon it was covered in blood
And slipped from my hand.
I stared at myself in the mirror with tears rolling down my face,
Trying to convince myself there was another way.
Was there really no other option?
There was… one.
I felt bad for mutilating myself.
But honestly,
I’d do it again.
I wish I could.
I know it sounds silly to an outsider.
It sounds dumb and confusing and insane, actually.
Not one person I’ve told has understood.
People say they get it, but if they wouldn’t do it themselves, they do not get it.
These tears come out like acid
But get reabsorbed
And corrode everything inside of me.
This whirlwind of insanity leaves me paralyzed yet running at the speed of light in every direction crashing into everything that has ever hurt me all at once ripping every fragile piece of me to shreds and leaving nothing salvageable to remain.
So,
A different kind of salt water pours out
Crying for my helpless heart
Instead of my hurting heart.
And the stupid thing is,
This isn’t normal at all.
It doesn’t matter if it was a person or a thing or a hope or a dream. It is what it is and the pain is unavoidable!
How do they handle it so well?
Maybe I’m just inadequate in the strength it takes to deal with your own emotions.
Because most people don’t jump to this
Or fantasize about quitting
They suck it up. Move on with life.
Grow. Challenge. Change.
But truth is
I’m so hopeless.
I’m done with school
I’ve given up on the career I thought I wanted
The life I thought I wanted
I don’t want my friends
I don’t want my family
I don’t want my job
I don’t want my city
I don’t want my country
Hell I don’t even want this world sometimes.
I can’t sit here and pretend everything is okay.
Every day I wake up and focus on what's in front of me
But I’m still living with this internal countdown
This clock that won’t reveal its hour
But reminds me it’s just a matter of time
Till the batteries stop moving the hands.
Please
Stop telling me I’m fine.
There seems to only be a certain anecdote
To make the sun stay
But it’s just one bottle
And I guzzled it so fast
I didn’t have any time to enjoy it before it passed.
I really think I need some type of fix.
They know the cure to cancer..
But they won’t let the patients have it.
So they drug ‘em up instead,
If thats the case,
Now it’s my turn.
I’ll need something strong
To fix all the shit wrong in my brain
That nothing else will heal
So hopefully I can make it to another country
Instead of the bottom of the Pacific
Cause I’ll tell ya what
I can’t do it here.
There are no amount of beach days or Sundays or fun things to get me through this now.
So what pill should I take?
The vodka on the shelf is waiting.