I’m not sure what jarred me loose,
Maybe the medication,
Maybe the ***,
Maybe the drinks I had sitting here,
Maybe just the texting,
But something just shook off the ashes and rose.
Something shifted, something SHIFTED.
I want to run, HA, no going back.
I got my parachute, time to fall and see where I land.

I take one to keep the blues away;
One so I don't peel my skin like a banana;
One so I can sleep without being chased by death;
One so I don't jump out of the car on the highway;
One so I don't run down the street naked talking about ethical consumption under capitalism;
One so I don't cry about the sad looking potato chip;
One to **** the pain in my heart;
One so I can focus on my school work;
One so I don't tell my teacher he looks like a bridge troll;
And one so I don't fall in love with you.

My mind thought it was dead
for five long years
living a life under clouds of medication
raining blues on my forehead
I did not know what it meant
to be awake
I only knew what it meant
to not want to die
I look in the mirror and see surviving
as if survivor is my only worth
bleeding thick black lines
onto paper so thin
it disintegrates as I write
my bones are awed at the thought
that maybe it didn’t need to be this way
smoking lungs deciding whether to
keep putting out the fire
or let my body burn
burn with my own inspiration
love that buried itself in my ribcage
and made itself a prison
worried about the hurt that would
crush my hands to powder
like it did before I learned
how to silence my mind,
it is deciding whether to be broken
or swimming in my own head
learning to think again
against my body’s wishes
it’s being okay or creative
finding light
finding life
or finding nothing in return

Life is too **** short
to feed off television
and medication

“Did you take your meds this morning?”
Those words take back all the progress I’ve ever made.
My feelings are invalid because they are irrational.
Apperently having depression means that any emotion is dangerous
Apperently being medicated for it means that your negative emotions are a mistake.

“Did you take your meds this morning?”
My mother slaps when I’m not laughing singing and smiling at Breakfast.
Yes, I’m just calm.

“Did you take your meds this morning?”
My father shoots when I slam my door after an intense argument  
Yes, I’m just angry.

“Did you take your meds this morning?”
My friend spits when I cry over a deep broken heart
Yes, I’m just sad.

“Did you take your meds this morning?”
My brother taunts when I can’t talk to the cashier at Walmart
Yes, I’m just nervous.

Medications regulate emotions.
Medications do not erase emotion.
Emotions are valid, organic or controlled.

i’ve beaten down and broken
into a million pieces
now i’m here alone
with no cure for my diseases

they’re eating me alive
cell by cell
they’ve forced me to do things
i refuse to tell

now i sit here alone
broken and lost
i’m still feeding my insecurities
when i know the cost

eventually i’ll be gone
nothing but pain
it keeps me awake at night
coursing through my veins

there’s so many scars
i can’t count them all
i’m patiently waiting
for my one last fall

my diseases are incurable
i’ve given up hope
there’s not much of me left
i’m searching for a rope

to end my pain
to end my sorrow
i’m hoping for
a better tomorrow

I haven't been so sad recently,
which is rare. I had the bad five months last year-
to the point I nearly killed myself.
And now I'm okay, but then it makes me think;
I'm not acting how I should act.
I don't feel like me anymore.
I'm bored,
I don't cry so often,
I feel like I'm wearing new shoes
that are slightly too small, to the point they
rub but don't leave a mark.
I think it's because I got so used to
being let down, that my body automatically
drops me a few stories every couple of weeks.
My eighteenth birthday was bad.
I think I just gave up on birthdays
and to think they used to be my favourite.
Now, I spend my time doing what is asked of me;
go to classes, smile, do work, go home, do homework,
sleep and not dream.
It feels weird.
I don't feel like me;
I want to feel like I'm dying again,
like the world itself is crumbling beneath my feet,
that, if I smile or move a muscle,
my whole being would explode;
shattering thousands with reminders that I was here,
because now I feel empty.
I'd rather feel like death personified
than nothing at all.