I blacked out in my bed last week, which is almost like falling asleep

until she told me my lips turned blue and my chest stopped dipping

and my head's still spinning trying to imagine the look on her face when she cracked three of my ribs while she begged 911 dispatch to tell her how to make me breathe again

I hate everything about waking up naked tangled up in tubes and wires and a face mask after my little brother dragged me on to the floor so EMT had a clear path to get to me

nothing about this is beautiful anymore
I've got a sick sense of Deja Vu and I still haven't quite caught my breath

I don't know which means more,

that it's been five months since I counted out the grains of salt it would take to get me through my next dry spell well enough to get out of bed..

or that it's been at least two months since I even thought of pin ***** needle point as an escape from ...well, anything

she came and left in these late months, when the sun sets too early and the night stretches on for days

and the night really does seem to last an eternity on evenings like these, when I am missing you so deeply

I found new love, mom, and she doesn't make me feel small for wishing you were still here
and she has the most beautiful heart, and you would smile if you saw us together

she is so gentle, ma, she holds me with so much kindness and I know you would be so proud of me for finding love in someone who has just as much to give back to me

I could never feel empty pouring myself into someone who spends so much trying to fill me back up

I wish you knew her, ma
I wish she got to know the warmth I come from

it's not fair that you didn't get to see me turn out happy
after so long watching me struggle though pitch black nights,
you deserve to get to see your baby alive in the sunlight

TW: suicide is not the answer
but strangely enough
right now i can't exactly recall what the question was

so maybe that's just how we'll do it tonight


TW: i stopped cutting when i was sixteen but then my best friend ***** me and i slit my wrists wide open when i woke up still high off the roofies she gave me
so actually
i stopped cutting when i was seventeen

and that's only because i met ******
and she taught me a different kind of numb


TW: i'm 170 pounds again and i think about throwing up every time i see a picture of myself or look in the mirror
and i wouldn't want to puke so bad if i could just stop eating but i can't even do that

so tally that one on the list of things i hate about myself


TW: it wasn't enough that i was a ******
i had to be a ******* "******" too

which is funny because despite what everyone keeps saying i really don't want to be a boy at all
i just want you to stop associating the word female with feminine
and stop expecting me to do my eyebrows or care about how my **** look in the shirt i'm wearing


TW: suicide is never the answer

but i'm just so **** sick of being sad
and feeling like i am suffocating but wishing that i actually was

I CAN'T TELL IF I'M MANIC OR DEPRESSED BECAUSE I WANT TO **** MYSELF TONIGHT

OR CURL UP ON THE FLOOR AND NEVER GET BACK UP AGAIN

OR DRIVE 108 MPH EXACTLY WHILE BLARING ALL THE SONGS YOU HATED HEARING FROM MY STEREO UPSTAIRS AND SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS UNTIL MY THROAT IS SO RAW AND MY VOICE SO HOARSE YOU WON'T EVEN RECOGNIZE IT WHEN I'M BEGGING YOU TO COME BACK

****
BECAUSE NOTHING HURTS LIKE THIS DOES

THE SPLIT OPEN RIB CAGE IS ALMOST A COMFORT BECAUSE AT LEAST THEN I MIGHT BE ABLE TO STUFF THIS GAPING WHOLE IN MY CHEST

SIX SHOTS OF NARCAN AND SHAKING WITHDRAWS TASTES ALMOST AS SWEET AS THE SHOT THAT KILLED ME
or the shot that left me lying unconscious for three days while the cancer killed you..

OR WAS IT THE PILLS THAT FINALLY TOOK YOU FROM ME?
I GUESS I REALLY COULDN'T SAY SINCE I WAS NEVER THERE

i use to see you in my dreams, Ma
i use to remember the way your hair smelled

ISN'T IT ******* PATHETIC I WON'T EVEN GO TO THE SAME STORES NOW
TOO AFRAID OF RUNNING INTO YOUR GHOST
even though i swear i'm struggling trying to find a place where i can feel you

i use to remember the way your voice sounded
AND I HATE MYSELF FOR DELETING ALL THE VOICEMAILS YOU EVER LEFT ME
AND THE TEXTS THAT SAID YOU ONLY WANTED ME TO MAKE IT HOME

YOU NEVER ASKED ME FOR ANYTHING BUT TO KEEP YOUR BABY SAFE
AND AREN'T I SO SICK FOR BEING TOO SELFISH TO EVEN DO THAT

instead i sat next to your hospital bed
TOO HIGH TO STAND BY YOU ANYMORE

i can't tell which half of bipolar this is
because i want to **** myself tonight
and you're not even here

to stop me

I don't tell other people's secrets
I have too many of my own that I'm still hoping you might forget soon

I am dangerous like falling in love with your best friend
and maybe because I am so casually comfortable with the idea of never letting you all the way in

I am the reason self-help books were created

I have "disaster" too literally tattooed on every inch of my skin

"you could be my therapist, but no. I'm not telling a stranger **** about me."
and go figure, but I have never been more interested in all the things you are not willing to say

because this porcelain smile of yours seems close to cracking
and I have more experience with that than you might believe

tonight is the first time in 45 days that I have considered calling to ask to shoot me dead (EVEN WHEN HE CALLED ME TO SAY HE COULD GET ME HIGH AGAIN)

I WANT TO DIE BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T LOVE ME LIKE SHE USED TO
but even more because I don't love her at all anymore

I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD EVER HAVE TO FEEL LIKE THIS AGAIN
you said you could only love me sober
BUT WHAT DOES ANOTHER KEY TAG MEAN TO SOMEONE SO ******* DEAD INSIDE

YOU CRIED THE LAST TIME WE KISSED
and I didn't want to use behind it
BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW STUPID I FEEL BECAUSE I STILL DREAM OF THE WAY YOU USE TO PRESS SMACK INTO MY WRISTS

AND HOW ******* **** YOU LOOKED WITH MY BLOOD STILL ON YOUR LIPS

and maybe this has more to do with the fact that you only ever made me feel lonely
AND I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF DOING THAT ALL ALONE

so this is about the next time I don't answer the phone
and you can thank the rig on the top of my book case