rag doll

trigger warning: insecurity, exhaustion, swearing, use of “chemical gunshots” as a metaphor, suicidal thoughts

i mould paper flowers out of the long lists of things i feel for you, and i carve my poetry to nothing because that’s what i’m supposed to do. and i’m hoping i’m good enough for you. and i’m so tired it feels like my eyes are made of lead and my skull is collapsing mostly because i’m scared of you leaving. as i fall asleep i think maybe we are all stars, and planets, band-aids and patched up messes. you could say that i’m not really thinking clearly. you could say it’s all a scattered mess of fallen leaves and broken heartstrings and it’s never going to get better and i might even believe you because i can’t imagine my life stretching out longer than it already has and for some reason that idea makes my nauseous and it’s all such a mess and it’s all so large and writing about being happy is really goddamn hard. and it’s all spinning. and it could just be midnight but i think everything is relative, as in everything is dependent, and if everything is dependent how do i know what the truth is? and how can i do anything knowing my future self will hate me for it just because in hindsight all the awkward lines and inevitable mistakes and things i shouldn’t have said highlight themselves over and over again. neon red. my vision is blurring and the headache presses in and i’m trying to care so i shove myself off cliffs like as long as the wind is rushing through my hair nothing will ever be complicated again. i’m shattered glass on windowsills. i’m dressing myself up in business suits and prom dresses printing out credit cards so i can buy my way into the future and it doesn’t matter if i go into debt because my brain can’t even process the present yet but did i tell you that of late did i’m soft blankets and the crickets at midnight and oceans of tears and the words expecto patronum and the gilded frames of finished poems. and i’m lying awake late at night, and it’s just i’m having trouble getting this through my brain. because i’m still only half-sure how to use my broken heart as a band-aid.


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relapse

trigger warning: mental illness, anxiety, depression (kinda), self-harm, suicidal thoughts

i’m falling. i’m falling, and the air whooshes past me, and i could hold on but honestly it’s easier to just forget everything. and honestly, the depression is kinda numbing. and honestly, after a while your miserable becomes all right. and. it’s all kinda complicated, but my arms are shaking and i’m sobbing on the inside as i watch harry potter and the order of the phoenix with my friends because harry is so fucked up and everything is so much like reality, but also because harry has an army that actually changes the world because the world is small enough that it’s possible to mold it with a couple hands and some determination, and even if you scream i’m not convinced i will ever get 7.5 billion people to listen, and i miss the feeling of believing. and i tell my therapist that when i speak poetry, it doesn’t feel like reading. it feels like holding a bird egg in your hands. and knowing that there’s something alive inside there. and knowing that there’s something, a future, and it’s that that you’re cradling, and your hands are kinda shaking, and this is something, and maybe this is everything, and it’s warm and a little terrifying, and your chest is overflowing, and yeah it’s kinda addicting. and yeah, it’s my lifeline. and yeah, i forget to do the things to make me happy. and yeah, i’m tired, as in i’m a castle and i’m melting, and all the words can’t rush out of me quick enough, and everything is twisting. and i’m getting dizzy, and the sky is kinda bending. and my fear  is a mask i cower beneath, and when you ask me if i’m all right, i’m not sure what i’m supposed to tell you. because yes, i’m surviving. and yes, i’m hanging in there but the key word in that sentence is hanging, and i’m hanging but this branch i’ve been holding onto is breaking and let me tell you that people were not meant to live in suspension this way, perpetually freefalling into nothingness, but i think maybe it’s all i’ve ever known, or i’m not sure. the depression and exhaustion mixed together are toxic and blinding, and i’m tired. and tonight, they’ve got me convinced they’re my allies.


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