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T J W Dec 2018
back and better than ever
so distant and numb
completely frozen in an never ending ****
a different speed
walking alone in a blur
able to survive the ingrained routine
but by night
that's when it creeps up on you
that unbearable pain in your chest
sobbing completely alone
wanting to give up more than ever
unable to care about the promised better future
stuck in only know
thinking it will never change
a prisoner of irrationality
lost in how it makes you feel
it told me there's no way out but to leave
it wasn't me
it changed me
took over me
it didn't let me write
only know as it has been weakened
My birth control is making
Me crazy again.
Breakdown, rage, comfort,
Repeat. Repeat.

Like clockwork,
I have to remind myself that
"I'm no monster", "it's the hormone",
"I swear I still crave you".

My love for you is
A radiant bloom, being
Suppressed and bullied by the
Bushes bearing thorns.

My hatred for you is
The shell of the bird that
Traps the life inside, leading
It to claw it's way out to breathe.

Wait for me to emerge,
My shell is holding me back
As a safety protocol.
I have not been born yet.
Bella Nov 2017
Thank you mom

for using harsher words,
than the boys in middle school did

for teaching me to love myself,
and then **** shaming me

I should let you know that all the boys at school were joking,
but from the tone in your voice I knew that you weren't

Thank you Mom

for bringing up impossible conversations,
in situations where I can't escape

like that lovely conversation in the car,
on the way home from school

the one about birth control,
when I desperately tried voice my opinion for the hundredth time

hoping that maybe you'd finally understand,
there was no need for it

nothing good or helpful came from it,
only inconvenience and discomfort

Thank you Mom

for leaving me stripped and *****,
with a spotlight shining on me

there's nowhere to go,
nowhere but out the car door onto the highway

that actually didn't seem like a bad option,
I always have preferred blood to tears

Thank you Mom

for expressing how you,
“don't want to raise your grandchild”

it's like, when I said I'm waiting,
it went through one ear and out the other, for the hundredth time

Thank you Mom

for giving me so much confidence,
and then taking it back, More easily than you gave it to me

Thank you Mom

for giving me such confidence,
that I'm a disappointment
My mom is good until she isn't. Like outright saying, "I don't want to raise my grandchild"
Francie Lynch Jan 2017
I once sped through Sarnia's streets
Delivering prescriptions for Mel's Pharmacy
To stately and not so stately homes
In the North End, and the South ends of the city,
To the same houses, every month,
With The Pill.
Forty-five years later,
And a lot of conflicting thoughts,
I wonder what could have been
For those unborn children
Who never got the chance
To crawl out of squalor,
To help the unfortunate,
To lead our communities,
Teach our children,
Cure our ailments.
And the thirty-somethings,
Back then,
With minds now fading,
Bodies failing,
And good-byes in pill form,
What conflicts did they wrestle with,
Do they wrestle with.
erin kingham Jun 2015
Monday:

The text said "who wants to get ******* this weekend?"
Life *****, as it always does,
but really its only Monday!

Tuesday:

I get assigned designated driver, but its not like we are

A. going anywhere
              or
B. I have any other choice

You know its dangerous to mix anti-depressants with alcohol?
And isn't the point of these pills, not to depress myself further, as alcohol has always seemed to do for everyone else?
Isn't that why they like it?
Because they feel numb?
I don't understand why anyone would want to be numb.
Maybe it feels good if its only for a little while.
Not for me though.
For me the numbness doesn't come in a bottle.
It comes in reflective surfaces, and anxieties, and sharp objects.
I cannot choose when to turn it on or off.
It just comes and goes as it wishes, as if I were a house and numbness called me home.

Wednesday:

The group message alerts are buzzing like their is no tomorrow.
Plans for where to go keep falling through.
But don't worry, the dead alcoholic's ex-wife and daughter are okay with hosting an underage drinking party.
And this is why I wonder about humanity.

Thursday:

We will all gather at that one girls house.
Everyone will bring alcohol.
I will bring donuts, Gatorade, and Cards Against Humanity.
I tell the girls that the snacks are for them, so they don't get too drunk or hungover.
But really I know myself too well, and I binge when I feel lonely.
Its hard not to feel lonely, when you're the only sober one there.

Friday:

They talk about this past year.
It was their freshman year of college.
I remember mine. Two years ago now. Time sure does fly.
We all talk about sophomore year.
I'll be back their again too... I hope.
You see, suicidal ideations don't usually help when trying to complete classes.  

Saturday:

Never Have I Ever  reveals more than I ever thought it would.
I might be the oldest, but I am by no means the most mature.
Things I have never heard of, things I could have never thought of are things of which they speak.
Two donuts are gone.

Their alarms all go off at 10:00 for birth control. They take out their mini purse packs of 30 pills, no bigger than a credit card.

I don't take birth control, because my periods are regular, and well:

Depression+antidepressants+confusion of sexuality= no *** drive at all.
I mean zip, zero, nothing.

Leaving me to be the only ****** of the six girls here.
Three donuts are gone.

Hours ago though, I took my 300mg of Seroquel XR.
I timed it just right.
This time I won't fall asleep hours before everyone else

'Pong' requires drinking so I sit their and watch.
Four donuts are gone

Shots are taken.
I pour more tea into my mug.
Five Donuts are Gone

Drunk face-timing old friends who have moved away results in much yelling, and her hanging up.
I start a new group text where I talk only to myself.
All Donuts are gone

*There is no wonder why alcohol and depression don't mix
Yet another true story
Emily Dec 2013
She swallowed her birth control
For she has learned the hard way
That it is her responsibility
To bear the burden
Of bearing a child
While the man **** as easily as he goes
To grab a drink with his friends
While the arms that belong to the body of a woman
Cradle a baby
That cries for milk from ******* that will be drained
And a heart that will be empty
And hardened by men
Who will *** and go again.

— The End —