One year.

Two prescriptions.

Three pills a day.

It’s not enough.


A pen and endless paper.

It’s not enough.


Everyone either turns their cheek or over thinks it.

They either let me do this to myself, or they try and send me off for more therapy

more prescriptions

more things I don’t need.

Don’t want.



Want.

I want to see you smile

I want to smile.

I want everything to shut up for three minutes

I just want some peace and quiet.

Everything around me is always moving and talking and changing and it never takes a minute to slow down. Why can’t everybody just sit down for a little bit and relax? Why can’t we just all stay in bed one day and drink hot chocolate or something. You know what? Forget the hot chocolate, I don’t care about the hot chocolate. I just want to sleep, and never get up.

and never get up....like, dead?

do I want to die?

it would be easier, I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

The pain would be gone.

Maybe I do want to die.


But maybe I don’t.

GAH! please, who am I?

what am I?

where am I going?

What am I doing?

am I even here?

I mean, physically I am, I guess. I still feel pain. I felt pain yesterday. I feel pain every day.


I’m so lazy. Stupid. It doesn’t even matter.

I’m a coward, I run away from everything.

School got hard, I stopped doing it

Writing got hard, I stopped doing it

Everything except hurting myself got hard, so thats what I do. I hurt myself.



No, not with knives...or matches exactly. Gosh, I wish. I’m forced to use what I have already in my room.

A paperclip?

A piece of graphite?

How about a broken piece of plastic? will that work?


No.

I’m fat

I’m ugly

I’m stupid

I’m never going to make it anywhere

Never going to do anything

Never going to leave this room

or this body

or this mind

or these pajamas, if I can help it.


All I have is me, myself, and this stupid room. This stupid room that I’m forced to have as my space.

I don’t want this to be my space, I don’t want anything.

don’t. want. anything.

I don’t want to feel anymore

I don’t want to dream anymore

I don’t want to live.

I just want to be in complete darkness, unable to feel a thing.



I guess in a way that’s how you’d describe me now.

Numb?

That works. I’m numb. But it’s not comfortable.

It boils under my skin, it messes with my brain. It makes me ready to tear my hair out and dig my nails into my skin until it stops. Until I can breathe again. Until the world clears and I can see the blue walls and stained bedsheets that surround this hollow being I call my body.

It’s like that feeling that you get when you have to sneeze, but it wont come. How you can’t stop the tingling in your nose, and it..it makes your teeth grit and your bones ache. It’s like that, only instead of gritting my teeth to make it go away, I take my pen and I write. I write on my arms, my legs, my stomach, hands, shoulders, feet. I write wherever I can.

Fatty

Useless

Boring

Dependant

Alone

Greedy

Rude

Angry. yeah, I’m angry alright. Aren’t we all?

All angry at the stupid things life does to you? They way that it can be so great one minute and the next your ready to jump off a bridge or run in front of a car. Do you get that? Do you ever feel that way? Am I alone?


Alone.

That’s exactly what I am. Alone.

Everyone who’s ever tried has given up on me, and it won’t be long before there’s nobody left to even pretend to care.

Maybe I should just jump off that stupid bridge, it’s the middle of winter, there’s no way I’d be able to survive. It’s nearly foolproof.


You know, when I was a little kid, I wanted to be just like Ariel. I wanted to be a mermaid, and spend my days in the ocean exploring old ships and making friends with flounder. I wanted to have long pretty hair that I could brush for hours and a singing voice that people envied. Maybe I can finally be that. It’s just a few seconds, a few painless seconds and I could be a mermaid, with friends, and beauty, and happiness.

I could have happiness.





It’s too late for me now, but it’s not too late for you. Be what I can’t be. Be alive.