I’m huddled up in the side of a bathroom stall
My friends are outside, breathing, leaving,
And I’m rocking like a lunatic.
I’m rocking like I belong in a psych ward, like my mind is definitely not okay
It is not okay.
In my pocket there is a pack of Advils
They rattle as a rock, they shake, their sound breaking the silence around
And the rattle
It feels like my head is filled with sand
It’s weight is too heavy on my shoulders
My stomach is clenching too intensely
My breath is pulsating
My wrists are itching for a scratch with a razor
And the pack of Advil rattles
And the pack of Advil rattles and cry grows up my throat
It chokes me, blocks away the air
And I shake
And the pack of Advil rattles
I hold the pack, the sound is deafening
I throw the pack down the bathroom window
It swooshes down
And then it’s silent
Then it’s the dead silence
Then the chocking gets intense
The beating gets extreme
The blood in my ears blocks everything else
My lips twitch
My body shivers
My blood pumps
And my neck itches for a blade
And suddenly,
The rattling of the Advil
Did not seem that bad
