What's The Problem?

ses Poems

They look at me as if I've lost my mind when I tell them what I've been doing. And maybe I did lose myself somewhere between deadlines and sleepless nights, but honestly why can't they see that I'm better now? I chose between two evils, yes- smoking or suicide. Now, which one is really the devil? Their disappointment cuts into me when I see their eyes because I truly believe that I am happier now. Isn't that what matters? Isn't that more than what I had before- nothing? I won't say that I'm close to okay but between a pipe and a blade, there's really no choice. I choose my poison but at least it's better than the pills I took as I tried to drift to sleep and forget the world, to stop seeing the scene that played out in my head of a peaceful face and a pool of red. So what's the problem? I'm still a straight A student, I still play a sport, I still have a job, I still have a social life. Why do they keep looking at me as if I lost my mind? I think I'm finally finding it when the smoke trails upward.