My thoughts run rampid and they twist and turn. My body shakes and my heart, my heart it burns.
No one can hear my silent screams- ‘help me,’ I yelled. But no one can hear and no one can tell.
‘Yeah, I am fine; yeah, I feel good.’ I say it over and over; maybe I will believe it and maybe I will be understood.
But it’s not fine and it’s not good. I’m lying to you. I’m constantly misunderstood.
I want to pop that bottle open, I want to take more than I should. I want to drift in and out, I constantly wish I could.
Don’t tell me to look at what I have, don’t guilt me and make me feel bad. I’m not stupid and I’m not naive, I can see it and of course it makes me sad.
Don’t you think I know? The countless times you tell me that it just goes to show- you don’t know a thing about me. You just give me clichés; over and over, I hear the same; I am sick of this game.
I know what I have and I know what I lack. It’s not something in my heart but something in my brain; it’s more than a pain in my back.
My chemicals are down, my chemicals are low- I just don’t know how to ease the pain except to open that bottle and try to take it slow.
I want to escape and I want to leave. I just want to be six feet under but you will never know what I mean.
Pain weakens you but also makes you strong; perhaps I have it all wrong?
Getting therapy takes courage but sometimes I am weak. I just want to quit, I want to break free.
I want to go where the angels will sing. I want to go where my head is silent and where my head won’t ring.
But if I fly my heart will ache; ache for the ones that I left behind. And its because they will always be on my mind.
Isn’t it ironic that my fear is to be left behind yet I think about leaving daily? I guess it’s time ‘man up’ and to puke and rally.
How bitterly ironic. And maybe you think I’m selfish? Sometimes I do. I just want to heal and learn how to deal with all this shit I feel.
I just wish I could move on from the past. Get out of my head, get off my back. Stop making me think about yesterday and repeating all the things you said I lack.
You are still killing me from afar and part of me wishes I could say sorry and part of me wishes I’d forget. I don’t want this anymore. I just want to wish it never happened and part of me wants to kick your ass.
I want to fly through the air because I think I would feel less. Sure the pain would be there for a second but it’s better than my mess.
Here I am talking about being left behind by you- how sweetly ironic because I would be doing it to my family too.
Until next time,