Scream in the air to not cry.
Stomach twists like tangled vines.
Tears rise but refuse fall.
Violent sobs shake my all.

Legs give out after a while.
Back slides against cold tile.
Of course I'm okay.
Can't you see?

I'm just okay.
And this isn't killing me.

How I wish I had two lives.
One to live to the fullest,
and the other to sleep away.

When given the choice to change something,
Most would choose something physical.
I would choose mental.

I struggle with self-confidence
I struggle with depression and anxiety
I don't wish for a new self.
I wish for a new light to look at myself under.

I always considered myself
a little messed up.
I never meant to hurt anyone,
but it seems I have.
Myself and others,
drowning in my monstrosity.

I never wanted to be monster
but I've lost sight of my humanity.
The pain I cause is always regretted,
but never enough to satisfy.
Who is the monster and who is the man?
I am both and he who made me this way is too.

Who would have though that
we could hate ourselves this much?

Red scars stand out vividly against pale skin,
protruding bones jut out from your smooth body,
the bitter smell of alcohol on your breath,
and acrid cigarette smoke pouring your delicate nose.

This self loathing,
this self hatred,
this anger that we can't be perfect,
gives us an excuse to destroy ourselves.

I get a little sad,
at little times,
over little things.

Little things like my friends
ignoring me and talking over me.

Little things like being alone
in a room full of people.

Sometimes it's the little things,
that make me smile on
the darkest days, waking me
from my sleepy stupor.

Little things like someone
who holds the door.

Little things like sharing
a smile with a stranger.

It's the little things
that mean the most
in this little, cruel world.
This little blue dot.