There comes a time that you hit rock bottom
You don't have all the worries but it feels like you got em
You cry and you claw and you climb and you shout
But you know without question there's no way out
It's so dark you wave your hand in front of your face
Still all you see is a black empty space
And the marks on your features like wrinkles in the past
Hold tight to the pain that you thought wouldn't last
But here you are today in the darkness
Wondering where you went wrong...why you're not skin and bone
They say when life hands you lemons
But they don't say what happens
While it's being made
You can't find the sweetener
And the faucet broke again
No ice in the freezer
Unplugged the fridge has been
How did this all occur
Things just got three times worse
Tumbling down in such a blur
Is this a blessing or a curse
The patience you do lack
But there will come a day
When you throw the lemon back
You never asked for it anyway
I feel alone.
I feel tired.
I feel ill and pained.
I feel as if there is nothing to look forward to in my life.
I feel like maybe dying at the age 20 isn't so bad after all.
I feel sick from the way that I've been allowing myself to consume food the past few days which is making me feel like a failure and since I feel alone there is not one soul that is here to assist me through my low times.
I feel like I can't talk to my family about going to see someone about my physical and mental health alike because I've tried and they seem to think I'm fine and I feel that the only way to fix it is to LOOK physically sick enough for them which has me feeling like an even BIGGER failure because I just ate a crap ton of food and there is no way to take it back.
I feel that my friends don't get that they are lucky to get even a single word out of me most days because every day is literally a giant struggle between my mind and my heart and my body and to even function like a semi normal human being takes more strength than I have nowadays.
I feel like everything is just crumbling to bits around me and the people meant to be here through the worst times are the ones setting fire to the pieces of my life as they plummet to the earth.
I feel like no jar of hearts or inspirational book or memoir or documentary or extensive research can bandage the wound that has been infecting me for over half of my life.
I feel as though crumbling to pieces myself and being set on fire thus wasting away to nothing before I even have the chance to hit earth like my life around me may just be the answer to my problems.
I feel stuck in a life that isn't mine and knowing that I deserve more but cannot get there because I'm not "enough". Not smart enough, not thin enough, not talented or skilled enough in any way to climb over the debris that continues to tumble and pile up tremendously high around me.
I feel cracked.
I feel broken.
I am but a shell
What's inside you cannot tell
I am simply ordinary
Inner beauty quite contrary
To the previous remark
You view me as quote "stark"
In my mind you're bleak and dreary
Still I believe within you deary
Is an acute flicker of light
Just waiting to ignite
A thousand possibilities
Across the endless seven seas
If only you could invision
A world outside the television
A place within yourself
Imagination on the shelf
Dust it off and change perspectives
See how another being lives
Not in your head but in theirs
Though you'll grow tired climbing stairs
Reaching for the tip top of perfection
Praying for some form of protection
Against the vibrance within the soul
Colored red, orange, blue, pink, gold
But see no one out there knows
That inside us all it glows
We want our true colors out
Yet withold them with such doubt
Yes, I am but a shell.
But, tell me...aren't you as well?
There was once a small girl who sat at the park
A place of refuge when her world was in the dark
Her flowing brown hair was beginning to thin
Still nobody cared about the struggle within
Bags under her dismal eyes from such deprivation of sleep
Because she counted crunches when she couldn't count sheep
She swayed on the swings to forget all her strife
Until there came the day when she ended her life
If only someone knew that her friends had left her
Stranded like an angel fish in the middle of a desert
She wouldn't have been bothered by the pressure to be perfect
And maybe she wouldn't have thought starving was worth it
She was worn
Sick and tired of being torn between elegance and truth
Tired of repeating verbatim the labels on foods in her head as her friends would eat them
Sick of tying herself to a noose and wishing there were some magic somewhere to loosen the hold
To loosen the grip that she had around her wrist constantly measuring the inches she had left to crawl her way to grace
And she wouldn't give up until she won the race against herself
Until her pitter-pattering footsteps were more hushed than the drop of a dime
Was killing herself considered a crime or was it the beauty of her imperfect lifestyle that caused the disappearing girl to submit to such cruel and unusual punishment?
I'm not meant to live past twenty
Which is funny since I'm already seventeen
They want me to live and follow my dreams
but how can that be when they took them away from me
once I reached the perfect weight of eighty-three?
Every individual on planet Earth
has been slowly disappearing, dying since birth
Yet the ones who choose to wither in their own way
are the ones who receive "treatment" for the purpose of their worth