i used to spend my days
pouring myself
into the cups of others

only to find
that when it was time
for myself to take a sip

all that was left
in my cup
was the remainder of a girl
who gave

too much

I used to love you

so badly

that

if I were without you

I couldn’t breathe.

All the while,

I never realized

I was suffocating.

I could live without
the days

when my depression
is forced to humble me
into remembering
that I am unwell

and without
my depression

I’d be

more
inclined
to

if I had a dollar
for every time
   a friend of mine
     told me that I
       ‘Deserve better’

I could probably
  afford the therapy
    to make myself
      Believe it.

I’m not sure if this even counts as poetry

it’s more so just a vent

I just want to say that I am TIRED

of busting my *** at a job that I hate

so I can barely make my rent.

I argue with my depression almost every hour

she’s a real ***** sometimes

she’s the main reason I have the call in

number to my job memorized

I just feel like it’s all so *******

pointless?

why am I living to work and provide a place for myself to have peace

if being stuck in my head in my “home”

is the last ******* place

I want to be.

I get really tempted sometimes

to just stop.

Stop working

Stop trying

Stop surviving

Stop crying

And then get the hell up

and go.

except I have no place to go

so I don’t

and I won’t

so cheers, I guess.

To paying bills.