My momma always tried her hardest
Growing up I made decisions that weren’t the smartest
Yet she’s still trying the best she can,
And
Depression hits, I know for her it’s the toughest.
She beats herself up.
Now, that is the roughest.
The past is the past but I don’t control what she does
I know because sometimes she lets things slip out in the mornings when we drink coffee from my favorite cup.
Life isn’t what it was.
Life is what it is.
I often reminisce on the best memories we have and when I think of life now, all I can say is what the ****?

It’s depression;
But it’s also me fighting myself and I hit so hard I end up in the hospital where I find my repression
Of all the emotions I numb out.
I can feel it through my body and that’s a knockout defeat for me.
I feel like life’s doubt.
If life were actually alive, I wonder if it’d survive.
Tina, please help me forget about life.
One inhale is all it takes to feel alright.
Make me forget about everything at least for the night.
I have mental issues but you can help by actually following through.
Hold on, I’m a little emotional I might need a tissue.

It’s bipolar;
People tell me to calm down.
When I’m manic I’m no where to be found.
The thoughts inside my head scream so ******* loud.
Trust me, my mood swings are the worst to be around.
I keep fighting but end up with my *** on the ground.
My insides are tearing themselves apart and it’s a constant war zone between my head and heart.
I don’t know when this all began, all I know is that my emotions control me and that leaves my fuel tank empty.

Theres the manic episodes;
The highs and lows of my constant panic mode,
The hypersensitive, the hypersexual, and my inability to be flexible,
My manic episodes lead me down a twist and turn road,
They take me for a ride and let me cry for weeks in my bed,
They let me talk about what’s going on inside my head,
They won’t lock me up for wishing I was dead,
My manic episodes don’t care they destroy and they constantly bulldoze.

It’s the anxiety;
The constant fear and worry.
The wondering if someone’s going to hate me because I’m in the clear.
The scorpions in my stomach, stinging me.
It’s crippling.
It’s worrying.
I can’t do anything.
Thats codependency but I need it.
I need you mostly and another hit.

It’s the brain injuries;
I can’t remember a **** thing.
I only remember strange little details like peoples clothing and if they’ve worn it for consecutive days.
I haven’t always been this way and I don’t feel okay.
I can’t make phone calls.
I can’t make my bed without getting too inside my head,
I get lost easily and then no one can find me.
I can’t remember the days anymore it’s like my brain is shutting doors and
My eyes are waterfalls all because I can’t make one call.

It’s the grief;
I still can’t believe they’re all dead.
I only have spiritual conversations with them or when I’m hallucinating off drugs.
I miss everyone’s love, especially my dads last hug.
So I do a drug to forget the pain but now I’m getting so high I can’t remember my own name or the day.
I know I have nothing to gain from my actions but I don’t care and I don’t know how to
Without you.

Most of all it’s the trauma;
Others call it drama when they don’t love you, They’re rough and tough.
Well, I’ve had enough of,
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
They try to bubble wrap you, I’ve done some stupid things so I would too.
I can’t get out on the outside to look inside because my eyes are always dodging contact.
Trauma is a gateway, some days you’re so dysfunctional even your own lawyer stops and asks if you’re okay.
Small little fact; we’ve only talked on the phone, never in person. Just when I was in jail alone where the world denies that I’m male.
If I were to weigh my trauma there’s not a big enough scale and the only one I see nowadays is when I abuse myself and pick up.
When I go there, my thoughts turn back to having coffee with my momma from my favorite cup.