angsty poem #551

trigger warning: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, mental illness, anger at family/figures of authority, hopelessness/ feelings of depression

have you ever tried to alphabetize your pain like when you were done you’d be able to understand the stuff that goes down inside your brain? because the thoughts are whipping through me and she thinks i’m doing all right and i don’t know how to let you down without being depressing ‘cause even when i’m happy i’m falling and i’m sitting here waiting for you to call me because if it’s you who calls me it’ll be all right and if it’s you who’s in control i won’t have to hate myself for wanting to be in control sometimes and caring too much and caring too little and if i’m like you will you love me oh wait but there’s always something wrong with me and the more i think about it the less sense it makes because everything is foggy and my brain is wired wrongly and sometimes i can’t take the weight of the twisting feelings a monster rising up inside me and i can’t think clearly without the music pounding the thoughts out of me. and what they don’t understand is that when i punch myself it’s because words didn’t work and neither did standing and neither did screaming and i need someone to listen to me. i need to make sense of the chaos and i need to get this out of me. and if you won’t let me breathe then am i still allowed to breathe and if i hate myself is it ok to need you to love me? and if i don’t know who i am, is it ok to be your property? and is this really my life is this really my life and is it ok that sometimes i google ways i could die and stand at the edge until the numbness and fear melts the pain and the voice in my head is done screaming but it’s never done screaming and it’s never really ok for any prolonged period of time and my heart is so heavy and i’m not sure i can carry it and i’m tired of living like this but right now i’m not sure anything can fix it and i need to talk, but no one has enough time to listen. but i get it, and i promise i’m not trying to get you to carry my burden. i just wish you understood the way the mix of overwhelm anxiety exhaustion and something like depression has of burning so bright that the colours vacuum themselves black-and-white all around me like i’m stuck in the second the photograph develops and it’s blurry all around me. and i’m so tired of humanity being so fucked up and i’m tired of my hands shaking every time i try to hollow out my throat and show you what it’s like in my mind and i’m tired of missing nothing about being a kid but hating myself unquestioningly. the monster in my head has me tackled and it keeps whispering things i’d never do except maybe i would because i worry i am nothing compared to the black hole inside me and it feels like i’m being possessed and these decisions are not choices, they are grasps into darkness. i hate that i wanted to die when i was six years old and what kind of person wants to die when they’re six years old and where did i even get that concept from and why can’t i just grow up and be all right like everyone else and why is loving other people so difficult and why does the poison i injected into my own veins become more apparent the more i try to heal from it taking slow steps away from the murder scenes where i am both the killer and the victim scattered through my veins. and my fingers shake and my life doesn’t feel like it’s worth anything today because it can’t be worth anything today because the pain is too much to handle and when nothing else works this is my fire escape and i’m falling apart right in front of you, and yeah i’m hanging in there, but the medication isn’t helping and and you don’t understand that i actually want to be happy and i wish you could accept that i don’t always have logical justifications for my feelings and i’m falling apart and i need you to listen, and i need you to not be afraid, and i need something i’m never going to get, and i hate that i still can hear every single time you’ve told me i’m a disappointment, and i’m drowning, and i need you to not call me selfish or be disgusted, and i need you to let me breathe, and what i need is for you to get it this time. but you won’t. and i know that. and my therapist says i need to learn to live with that. and i’m trying my hardest not to make my heart the breeding ground for desperation but it’s harder when i’m shattered glass on the ground trying to put myself together with my bleeding fingers but it really hurts, and the words i don’t know how to say are that a breakdown is when being alive feels pretty impossible today.

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