I was scared, lost
I felt anxious

Happiness betrayed me
And I felt nauseous

I looked into the mirror
Displeasure owned me

I walked out of my home
Demons cloned me

All my life
I was never at ease

I had to take drugs
And little anti-depressant pills

With nobody to share
I felt lonely and unnoticed

Nobody knew my secrets
As I built my anxiety hills

They judged me
Called me someone I never was

I wish,I wished
That they could know my past

And here I am
Its just another night

My heart craves to swallow drugs,
Just so I can finally feel alright

I want to enjoy life, more than ever before. I want to work out, run marathons without worrying about getting a t-shirt or an Instagram like. I want to sweat this **** off like in the game of life.
I want to indulge whatever I want. I'm craving all types of food and feel like having something from the nearest untrustworthy food stand, sit, eat and belch like an ''I won *****'' paean. Maybe I could go vegan for a day, or try the disgusting raw food challenge or switch it later to become a fast food nasty piggish *****. Food shouldn't be feared, it shouldn't make you sick nor fat. I don't even care about my shape like I used to, food is there to be lustly enjoyed before it is pooped, my friends. I don't mind if I'm slim or fat for the first time in my life yet I still in a pseudo imposed diet and nobody knows why.
Oh God! I want to jump in the water cold or hot, who cares? sunny or cloudy, who gives a dime? Better yet, I want to jump out off a plane for skydiving and feel I'm flying free, high, higher than my thoughts and fears. I want to drink and celebrate as if it were my birthday, and toast to wisdom rather than to wrinkles. I want to dance like the whole world is watching, flashing me and tagging me.
I want all that. I want to spend all the money I have on dresses, hippie, elegant, short, longs and even see through ones but I just want to forget about ''saving for a house'', ''saving for a future that might never come.
Oh man, I want to do more things than I even dared to in my beautiful early twenties. I actually think I should have done more, dared more, even gotten laid more. Why not?
But this stupid sickness has turned me into a trapped bird on an infamous spell. Right after a click, I'm just a free bird in a cage, trapped in a white four-wall safety room whether it is home or work. This right here is a bird which lamely admires people living their life outside and watching the clock inside ticking ''it's one more minute of prison'' going by and by and by like a stream of water in my sweaty hands. That' s where a stupid sickness can drag ones life on, trapped in a safe yet hermetic & suffocating bag. Usually, the NY Times articles, writing drafts and camera lenses from my balcony alleviate this and convince me it is not too bad. But it actually is very bad. and God knows I'm getting tired of this.
If life is a game, if this life is a game, then someone has to lose while the other wins.
Will abracadabra inscribed on an amulet make me win? If Roman emperor Caracalla prescribed that malaria sufferers wear an amulet containing the word written in the form of a triangle in order to get healed.
I trust the man. I just want to be free.

Each time it diminishes, I know it's not gone forever.
It will always return.
Anger pushes me deeper into my corrupted, compromised brain.

Painless agony that hides behind a veil of apathy
I physically hurt from emotional agony.
There is no tangible reason.

I'm fighting myself, and no matter who wins, I will always lose.

I am a zombie–
Neither dead nor alive, but merely walking around, bringing others down.

I'd like to be a bird, you see.
And I might travel all the seven seas.
I might even reach a paradise
far away from their judging eyes.
What's paradise, you ask?
well, if you're so keen to know...
It's somewhere where I'm skinny enough,
and somewhere where your mind is clear.

"Sounds like heaven."
"Yes it is."

"Will we ever get there?"
"You know I'm too heavy to get off the ground."
"And I'm too fuddled to find my way around."

"Well, we never were meant to be a bird, you see."

it starts out
so innocently

a nagging thought in the back of your mind
a stray Post-It Note in the files of your memory

it flutters
caught in the breeze
of a wandering mind

another flutters
and then it rips free

you grab them
not knowing
their poison

fatuglystupidfatclingyhatefulfatselfishfatdirtytoxicfatf­atfat

you ****** them away
but they've already stuck
their glue coating your dendrites

you ignore them
the best you can

but their bright colours
and sharp words
flutter so very loudly
grabbing you the way
black-and-white normalcy cannot

months later
you sit at your desk
writing and smiling
and eating and giggling

when suddenly

you hear their flutter
and see that they have woven
into a gorgeous ribbon
of self-hate and pain

it wraps around your throat
freezing the words at the tip of your tongue

coaxing the food from your stomach
the breath from your lungs

and soon
the blood from your veins

you curl into a ball
and cover your ears
but there is no escaping

the ribbons are now ropes
tied tightly around your veins
around your throat
a noose
awaiting your next careless step

finally
you step off the edge of a loving home
or
trace your veins with a razor
or
find solace in a bullet

*suicidalworthlesscrazysuicidalsuicidalsuicidal

It kills me every minute.
It kills me every day.
It kills me every hour
For the rest of each May.

It’s 3:00 in the afternoon.
Am I happy?
Yes, I guess, maybe. Just got home from school;
Tired and sleepy. Laughed a lot,
But relapsed once again.
Why is this happening again?
I can’t let myself fall again,
Though I’m forcing it to go back for them.

It’s 2:30 in the morning.
Am I happy?
No. Demons are coming all over again.
The voices are getting to me.
They’re going to take control over me.
Things are getting worse each time.
It’s like I’m in the middle of a tug war.
I don’t have anyone, and everyone has me.
I’m always there for people but they’re
Not always there for me.

It’s 4:00 and I haven’t been able to sleep.
Am I happy?
No. I feel alone. Loneliness.
It’s empowering itself through my bones
and all the way through my brain.
Taking control over me, as if I was no victim.
I have no friends, no one to talk to.
I have to deal with my own drama and
I just can’t. I want to sink in my bed.
Let the dreams sink me in for I
Have nothing to live for.
All of this is happening, yet I go around the
halls with the bright smile on my face.
Pretending like everything’s okay when
It’s actually all a ******* mess.

It’s 6:00 and I haven’t slept a bit.
Am I happy?
No.No.No.No.
The same answer over and over.
Thinking about the same nightmares.
Dreaming about what will never truly happen.
I have bags around my eyes, but no one notices.
I try to cover it with make-up, and everyone
Believes the dark fantasy of ‘okay’ being the truth.

It’s 2:00 in the afternoon.
Am I happy?
Idek.
I’ve learned a **** lot of lessons,
Yet not one of them seem to help me tbh.
I give them to whom I call my “friends”
And I use myself as an example of being the best
And the one who suffered but already got better and is ready
To experience life 100%.
But really, is it true?
It’s all BS tbh that comes out of my mouth for trying to
Help others.
*** is wrong with me?
Who am I fooling?
Me and only me.
You’ve got to understand you have 0 friends.
No one likes you. You’re a loser to the left.
You’ve got NO ONE.


And that right there, were my demons talking.
Now you get how I feel when they come?
Yeah that’s what I thought.
No one will probably ever read this,
Because as I wrote up there,
I have no one so nobody will be ever
Interested in what I feel.
But however I write it. To feel accomplished.
To feel like I’m talking to someone when I am
Actually talking to nobody. I did this just to let it all out.
And honestly it feels good.