he got better
he went from one extreme to the other

he went from

caring to much about what everyone thought about him
to
literally giving no ***** about anything.
when his depression was really bad he used it as his
shield
his excuse for everything
he developed, in a sense, an invincibility.
so that whenever something was wrong he could blame the
depression.
now he's created a new sense of invincibility
because he honestly believes
he can do whatever he wants
and it won't effect people because he just doesn't care and is oblivious to consequences

Awake now,
Though it's not quite morning,
I won't sleep again,
The dark is too much for me.

I
Can
Keep
On
Recovering

I
Can't
Stop
My
Suffering

But you can, my love,
I know you're still here now I've returned

He forgot how to help himself.

He forgot how to love,accept,and respect himself.

He now loves feeling his pain,
and wishing things were still the same.
Exchanging brains,
for drugs with names,
that will land him under the ground,
or inside of a cage.

It’s a crime to wait,
for life to take,
the righter path,
with a mind that hates.
At night he’ll pace
his mind will race,
yet sit in place,
designed to waste.

Why does he do it?
So self destructive.
He claims he isn’t an addict,
but isn’t above it.
The future is bleek,
so no need to recover.
A bleeding heart bruises,
and is misleading in color.
At the moment before,
the moment he snaps,
and right before he’d lose it,
*his music *oozes from the loosest of nooses.

Another Sunday, time to recover
From all the drugs, my only lover
Take my B vitamins to start the circulation
With some fish oils to reduce inflammation
Most importantly, are my amino acids
Because of that I've been flushed
So now I replenish these masses
The benzos are the only drugs that get touched
So addicted to them, so I know it's a must
If a doctor read this, he'd understand my logic
But if a doctor read this, he'd command me to stop it
As I continue my day with my normal acting mind
I realize I'm a slave to drugs, all the time
But I'm financially flourished
The whole family I nourish

And after reading these poems, I feel some people get jealous
Who would follow me? They know my soul I had sold it
I always follow back, I'm not a bad guy
Now sit on top of that, I'm not living a lie
I could really care less about it
It's just an alias, and a therapeutic outlet
Just another Sunday
Glad you read about it

you can feel every pound
every inch of fat
every pore
each out of place hair
yet you cannot feel the love shared or the depth of the ocean as you sink
stop to see the beauty of it
come up
breathe

You, yes you.
Typing out your despair.
Trying to feel less mental.
I've definitely been there.

You're in pain.
You are actually giving birth.
To another stronger you
A you with more self worth.

It will rip.
But I must reassure you
The emptiness gets refilled
Soon will come your debut

So, you, yes you
Keep typing your despair
I hope you feel less mental
Knowing that you will repair.