Here I am
Carefully teetering on the line of moving forward
Of life, of recovery
I’m scared to death, and they tell me I have to be kind
To not pressure myself, to take it easy
And I told them, I thought I already was
But they argue that it takes a lot of work
To hate yourself
And the way I do it is so masterful, finely tuned
So it’s foolproof and it’s kept me here
I guess I have to believe them
They tell me that my inner psyche
Will always drive me towards wellness, whatever that means
But my system got broken
And I have to let it restart
I’ve been working hard, y’know
I tell people my new script if ever they cautiously ask
A hundred times this year I’ve heard myself say
‘I’m not better, but I feel more in control’
I guess it’s true, though it may not always seem that way
I still can’t really breathe or think clearly
Still don’t know how my parents love me
And every time the seasons change, god I feel ill
I feel a real sense of regret and shock that wait.
I’m not supposed to be here.
They can’t help me trust that I am, just yet
Still can’t cross the road or take my meds
And not wish and wish right there and then that I was ballsy enough.
But I’m not, and I can only assume
That’s my inner psyche working.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Here I am
Carefully teetering on the line of moving forward
Of life, of recovery
I’m scared to death, and they tell me I have to be kind
To not pressure myself, to take it easy
And I told them, I thought I already was
But they argue that it takes a lot of work
To hate yourself
And the way I do it is so masterful, finely tuned
So it’s foolproof and it’s kept me here
I guess I have to believe them
They tell me that my inner psyche
Will always drive me towards wellness, whatever that means
But my system got broken
And I have to let it restart
I’ve been working hard, y’know
I tell people my new script if ever they cautiously ask
A hundred times this year I’ve heard myself say
‘I’m not better, but I feel more in control’
I guess it’s true, though it may not always seem that way
I still can’t really breathe or think clearly
Still don’t know how my parents love me
And every time the seasons change, god I feel ill
I feel a real sense of regret and shock that wait.
I’m not supposed to be here.
They can’t help me trust that I am, just yet
Still can’t cross the road or take my meds
And not wish and wish right there and then that I was ballsy enough.
But I’m not, and I can only assume
That’s my inner psyche working.