i'm not sure when it started but i think
it began about eight years ago and since then
i've had quite the struggle dealing with it.
maybe it was the divorce,
the break up, the abuse,
being abandoned by my mother
and friends
or maybe i just snapped inside
and all the liquid began to ooze over
filling up all of the negative space
inside my brain.
sticky black tar growing thorny
flowers full of doubt.
been having those bad days lately;
either i binge and crave attention,
or i spend all day sleeping not even bothering
to feed myself.
reading or lying on the floor in a
pool of my own self-loathing or
drinking excessively and crying.
sure i want help, i want to get better,
i'm aware of my own disease even though
i tell myself that it's all right and i'm not that bad
because i'm not like that person and i'm not
making any attempts on my life right now
even though i spend a lot of my time thinking
about it.
sure i want to get better, but i think life
would be more terrifying without this
disability, this burden, constantly weighing
itself down on my shoulders.
who would i be if my heart was fine?
