They said our 20s were supposed to be easy
They never said that i would have to
Count backwards from one hundred to
Curb a breakdown
They said sedation will calm you
Down
But no one ever considered
That my neuroticism is what gave
Me my power to write
No one prepared me for the nights
I dont remember
For the car accidents that happened
But never really happened
The accidents that only existed as scars
On my car
That my splintered mirrors
Only showed a fraction of my illness
I was never supposed to be the person
To leave the party early
Because there was an anomaly in the wallpaper
I was unable to ignore
No one prepares you for the enemies
You make of yourself
Or the holes in your memory
Where your dignity leaks out
I never knew I could tell the time
By counting my tears on my tile floor
And that springs of my
Bed would twang the sad anthem id never sing
Because i was bloated with
The probability that
My anxiety was
Scrawled on my skin
That my anguish was apparent
And my life floated in a glass
Half empty
And ever-transparent
I believed
No one would want to be with
Someone with so much baggage
I had to check in in order to get on a plane
Ive spent my 20s on the verge of
Implosion
I was never meant to
Crave sterility
And the absence of emotion
What if my mispoken words
Were perfectly aligned
With the trajectory of my life
And that I was meant to
Teach people
Through this story
That even the
“Wrong words come
Out right”
prosepoetry depression healing