Snoozing the alarm clocks hit the highest record today, congratulations.

We got out of bed after the sixth one went off, then continued to lay in bed until the seventh one blared through.

We opened the blinds at two in the afternoon.

We went downstairs and didn't eat until 4pm, congratulations it's practically dinner time.

Our anxious hands spilt the coffee we carried into the living room because we only got five hours of sleep.

We spent the whole evening completing six chores because we had no energy to get up from the floor.

Our night consisted of us hiding away in our bedroom until insomnia washed over us and rocked us harshly to sleep yet another night.

Congratulations.

Get a job says every family member or friend I've ever had.

Get a job says depression, mocking me and taunting me while holding the words my family said to me over my head.

Get a job says mom at 7pm when she walks in the door from work, not even asking me how my day was.

Stop being lazy and sitting around all day, it's time to grow up.

Mom, I'm trying to explain to you what it's like to wake up at 10 and lay there in bed until 12:30.

I'm trying to make you comprehend what it's like to eat your first meal of the day at 4 in the afternoon when it should've been at morning.

Half the time I eat just to make you not see how broken I am, to pretend to be someone I really never was or am.

Mom, I eat my feelings because I'm too afraid to say them and all that food is just me trying to fill in the holes anxiety left when she tore through me.

Mom, I'm not lazy!

I'm exhausted and embarrassed and I've carried this shame and guilt and blame for as long as I can remember.

My brain is wound up in chains and soon nothing will remain

Mom do you understand?

I'm a stranger living in the skin of my own body, just a lifeless ghost smiling and making appearances to please everybody.

Mom, I'm tired.

His emotions were like the ocean, so vast and deep, and full of words unspoken.

He confessed to me all his sins and converted to an emotional, selfish machine: so violent, yet completely fulfilled of utter purpose.

I listened to him and his story, then instantly hated myself because I couldn't cure the brokenness or unleash the glory his soul once possessed.

His voice was so full of anger and sadness, distinct with the fear that he would not be able to survive this raging storm on his own.

I told him that I loved him and took him away from the place he once called a home.

He was always impatiently searching for a place he had never known, hoping that someday he wouldn't have to constantly live in the unknown.

His lips soon spoke the four words I never quite wished his voice would ever intone, while also pleading and begging me to not leave him on his own.

He sat down and told me his problems and I listened to the voice of someone I thought I knew.

After the pleading and gasping of breath, he told me he had no ounce of energy left.

Soon fate circumvented much to his relief and a sharp blade gently kissed the skin under his sleeve, but death wasn't ready to take him under his wing.

He was sent back to a place where the pain would subside to a sting.

He was practically forced to jump back on his feet and stop bargaining for less time with his grief.

I'm sorry and I promise that I will try to help you find some peace, but if you go down, I go with you.

How's that for release?

This constant checking, constant inspecting of every inch of my workspace, every inch of my home.

These demons in my head can't seem to leave me alone and I convinced myself that everything will never be okay.

I guess when you're living in hell, it's the price you have to pay.

It's just never ending and I'm so sick of overthinking.

I'm almost positive by now my brain is shrinking.

I barely eat anymore and I can't seem to ever sleep.

This blurry part of me is something I guess I'll always have to keep.

You said you could handle it and that you could help me, but darling you can't even help yourself let alone set my demons free.

I put my heart in your hands and trusted you with it, but that was like placing scissors in the hand of a curious child and expecting them to remit.

You tried so hard to always soothe me of my own pain.

You tried so hard to make my burdens yours and withdraw them all away.

I'm realizing now that if I were normal, maybe you would have stayed and it took me so long to collect my ghost back into my body, to restart this lifeless heart you handed back to 'just somebody.'

My dear, you never quite stopped all the screaming.

Things have gotten much worse since you ended my dreaming.