better than nothing

i don’t want to write anything. and i don’t want to move, and i don’t want to breathe, and please. just leave me in peace.

 i don’t want to write anything, so i’ll write you this. this depressing piece of shit. this empty list of words, clunking around my head.

because it’s better than nothing, right? because if i’m not gonna write anything anymore, then… here. have this.

 have the remains of my heart after a late-night panic attack because of course something went wrong. and of course i couldn’t stop thinking about it.

have the wind biting into my cheeks, and blowing through my hair. and the voice in my head, that just wants to get the fuck out of here.

and take it. take all of it.

i don’t think i’ll be needing it anymore.


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the flowers still grow

and honestly? maybe the worst part about this is that i don’t know anymore. what’s me, and what’s just my brain. and what does that leave you with? when you can’t trust your own judgement? when there’s so much doubt in your head that you feel like you’re going insane?

so i’ll paint the sky a cerulean blue and i’ll smile, and draw stick figures and cute flowers and pin it to our fridge and be your perfect daughter, and it’ll all be for you.

and our tears will melt across our cheeks and i’ll call you, at 11:00pm in the bathroom and i’ll tell you how much i love you, but i don’t think you’ll ever truly know.

and i’ll try to write it out. i’ll try to show you, even with my shaking hands. and my broken bones. 

and honestly, sometimes all i know is that the wind blows through the leaves and at least for now… the flowers still grow.


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oh

trigger warning: implied suicidal thoughts

oh. and they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but mine is curling up into a ball, getting ready to explode.

and the static crackles in my mind, growing louder and louder until i can barely hear… oh.

so i find myself, clenching my fists up into battering rams, waiting for the sky to let go.

falling apart on the beach in the middle of the night. or drowning in the abyss of my own fucked-up mind, pushing up toward the surface but never finding the light…

oh.

and i don’t know when i got here, but i find myself looking out your bedroom window in the middle of the night. surrounded by the people i love most, and still unable to see anything of worth left in my life.


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red

and so watch, as my lips shatter into the golden sunset. as my thoughts break, glass falling to the ground, and it’s all fucking over now. so here i am, staring up at the ceiling, just waiting for my mind to shut down.

and so listen, as blood dribbles off my fingers, and my hope melts like a candle in the freezing. cold. winter.

because this. this is the apocalypse; the one we’ve all been waiting for. so take a seat. grab some fucking popcorn. and turn off your heart. and brush away every part of yourself that ever dared to think that things were gonna get better, because they aren’t.

because life is not a disney movie.

and you can’t spend all day in bed, hiding away from the reality.


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another sad poem

pick yourself up, girl. i’m tired of seeing you like this. just stitch together the gaping black holes in your chest and laugh it all together. because that’s all it takes, i swear. all you really have to do is just fake a smile, and drink green tea, and focus really really hard on getting better.

just lift yourself up, up, and so far above. like me. smile from the top of the sky and see? everything was fine. so don’t come crying to me with another boring piece of sad poetry. you’re bringing down the vibe. you’re kind of acting like a baby.

come on. don’t be this way. just sprinkle rainbows and sunshine on your shoulders, and turn that frown upside down. because this isn’t a mental illness. just another sign, of another person riddled with weakness.

and you know? i really thought you were better than this.


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