Lonely days are only followed by saddness
Happy days only end in loneliness
Friends make life bareable
But bareable still takes it toll

You can find love birds in the meadow
Hiding from the sun in the trees shadows
The seasons change faster then ever believable
Trees only help in the summer swole

You remember the crisp night air,
The same air that could spark or ensnare
Emotions only run so deep
Thought lasts longer then you think.

Why did you do that 5 days after my 19th birthday?

As if waiting until i graduated college
Or walking me down the aisle
Or seeing your grandchildren
Would make the pain any less bareable...

And its the little things that play with my emotions

Like...

Knowing i can never text you again

-Or wait by my window to watch you drive up the driveway because you were the only thing I was looking forward to all week

-Or sitting at an old burger joint discussing the power of the mind when intertwined with spirituality

-Or seeing the look on your face when I chased you around our handmade baseball field in the backyard

Those are the things I would give my own life to get back.

But two suicides dont make a life.
(At least thats what my psychologists say)

But I know if I could see my father again,
I would be taking my life back

My body is
Finally getting me
Back for all the things
I have ever put it through

Breathing's barely bareable,
I'm losing this thing called control,
It's like a car-crash,
Like a whorl-wind,
Like the stabbing of a knife,
Through the black bruise,
On your broken heart,
That tears at your insides,

Flashback back to better times,
When I don't dream,
And you don't cry,
Pull me back to stable days,
And nights of certainty,
Fall out of time and make us right,
Pull the trigger and say good-bye,
Take me back: I miss you

my heart aches without you here
tears fall knowing you're nowhere near
Their stupid smug faces surround me
Their words cut like knives, piercing my body

I miss your warmth
I miss your smile
You being here makes the suffering worth while
You make  the pain more bareable
You being here because the days go quicker
You make it easier to ignore them as my parents bicker

You're the reason for me being here
baby you saved me
I wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for you
baby you're my hero
but you don't have a clue
you don't know who i really am
The 'me' you see is really just a scam


i pretend to be better
because if i won all those years ago, i wouldn't have met you
but it's hard to pretend to be happy, again and again
It's hard to prevent yourself from bringing forth the end
and if i did it, course there'd be a letter to send
But would you ever read it?
Would you have the strength to sit and think of me
reading my last thoughts over and over?
Not once, have i ever found a four leaf clover
not in a book, not in real life
not in a photo,
i only ever found my sharp stainless steel knife

Half of my time alive I've been on the cusp of suicide.
An ideal that is swayed by either a state of depression or just a lack of drive.
The other half, bareable pain spattered with glimpses of true happiness, which I can't seem to hold on to.
I've experimented (usually in depth) these different methods of obtaining something.
Not knowing what I had been looking to obtain.
Just some sort of fulfillment.. or purpose or whatever we're supposed to gain in order to ease the pain of existence.
Excuse me for being so blunt but, this light.. this fleeting light..
A light that taunts me like the ideal i earlier spoke of yet I'm only ever granted glimpses of what it can do.
It begs the question, what about all of the moments when I thought I grew?
I did all the things my sponsors said.. my therapists, my mentors.
Yet this light continues to remain unattainable.
I'm screaming at myself "please, let somebody love you!"
And logically, I know, when you tell me that I'm capable of being free, I'm worth the love you're trying to give me but surely enough I continue to push it away.
I can't seem to escape myself, so the best thought I've yet to come up with is to escape myself.
Living life in what is clearly insanity I can't help but to continue to live.. on the cusp of suicide.

A chaotic mix of flesh and consiousness is what I am
A well balanced routine of procrastination and stressing out later is my life
A mixture of sob and snoring is my sleep
Painful and barely bareable is the pressure
And insecure but narcissistic is my personality
Thats me, ig? What about you