I don't love him
But his lips are convenient
And his hands are warm

You aren't here
Which is fine but it's not
And I miss you every day

I don't love him
And he doesn't love me
But we're both missing what we can't have

You don't love me
Which is something I understand
But I'll never get past

It's been a few years since this feeling of hopelessness and the weight of something a little more sharp than sadness settled in the gut of my stomach and rewired my brain.  
"Chemical makeup and nothing more than a passing phase," she told me. "I made it through and so will you."
"How long?" I sighed out, tired although the day had only just begun for me.
Some days are harder than others. Most days I wake up and forget what it's like to feel okay, forget what it's like to have a productive day, forget what it's like to feel fully rested. Other days feel like a war being fought on my own front lawn and I can do nothing to stop it.
I'm not scared, although I suppose I always have a little fear. I fear I won't wake up the next morning, fear that I might, fear that I won't wake up from the nightmare that is depression.
"I don't know, honey, but it will be okay," she rubs my hand and I can see the battle wounds of her own wars painted on her skin. Nobody is ever safe from themselves.

You're in love!

you're going to wait by your phone for his response until you fall asleep at night, and that will be cute at first because you'll have talked all day long but now it's because you haven't heard from him all day and it feels like a punch to the gut.
* you're going to be constantly disappointed because the two of you have always been fundamentally different people and you just wanted this one thing to work out with the kind, cute boy whose hand is nice to hold.
* you're going to cry at night because you know you've been holding onto something that wasn't really even there to start, but you won't find it in yourself to let go.
* you're going to tear yourself apart, and for what?

I love you but I don't know what that means anymore

Will you still love me in the morning
When my clothes are back on my body
Instead of your floor?
Will you still love me in the morning
When my hands aren't in your hair
And your hands aren't on my chest?
Will you still love me in the morning
When you realize the promises you can't keep
And wish the words were never said?

I don't think so.

There is beauty in your goodbye
As the words dance across your lips
They cut into me like a knife
But I do not bleed for you

Tell my mom I'm trying
Tell her it still aches
Tell her that when I wake up in the morning
I still feel like I am dying

Tell my mom I love her
Tell her I am sorry for the pain
Tell her I know I caused it
But I have found no cure

Tell my mom I'm sorry
Tell her there's not much I can do
Tell her I wish I had a plan
But things are kind of blurry