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Em-quinnPoems
when i was 8 years old, i got off the bus. i got off the bus to two words. the next 72 hours were spent hiding in a basement. nothing was coming. i think, at least... the whispers in my head told me otherwise though, so in the basement i stayed. when i was 10 years old, the news woman shared stories. the news woman told me the end was near. maybe that wasn't her exact words. i didn't sleep... just in case. insomnia became a friend of mine. when i was twelve years old, the new year rung in and i was alone. the house was blanketed in silence, and i sat on an empty couch, and everything had seemed so quiet. a razor blade was my only company. we became quite close that night. when i was fourteen years old, i wandered barren hallways, adorned with crimson. they had given me free socks when i'd arrived. the psych ward was not nearly as loud as the voices in my head. i am now sixteen years old. medications flow through my veins, scars dance up and down my wrists, and although i am surrounded by people, i am so alone. the moral of the story: tell me when you figure it out, because trust me, i'm still trying.
0
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
the moral of the story.
when i was 8 years old, i got off the bus. i got off the bus to two words. the next 72 hours were spent hiding in a basement. nothing was coming. i think, at least... the whispers in my head told me otherwise though, so in the basement i stayed. when i was 10 years old, the news woman shared stories. the news woman told me the end was near. maybe that wasn't her exact words. i didn't sleep... just in case. insomnia became a friend of mine. when i was twelve years old, the new year rung in and i was alone. the house was blanketed in silence, and i sat on an empty couch, and everything had seemed so quiet. a razor blade was my only company. we became quite close that night. when i was fourteen years old, i wandered barren hallways, adorned with crimson. they had given me free socks when i'd arrived. the psych ward was not nearly as loud as the voices in my head. i am now sixteen years old. medications flow through my veins, scars dance up and down my wrists, and although i am surrounded by people, i am so alone. the moral of the story: tell me when you figure it out, because trust me, i'm still trying.
sigh life's been tough lately.
#mentalhealth#ocd#anxiety#depression#bpd#mentalillness#selfharm#loveyourself#staystrong#recovery
Em-quinn
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Em-quinn
17/F
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
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