Why do they stay?
I tell them to leave.
The scars, the lovers, the urges.
Why do I love pain?
The feeling of the blades dragged along my skin,
tearing me apart, slowly.
The empty bottles.
I drink until I forget.
I pop the pills.
The pills that are supposed to make it better.
Why am I depressed?
I have everything I want and need.
A boyfriend, loving mum, annoyingly cute sister, a house and food.
I don’t want me. Do I need me either?
There are voices sometimes, that will tell me this isn’t right. But why should I listen? They’re just voices. Whispers in my head that are the small figments of hope in my imagination.
He helps. He makes me smile and feel better, even if I make him upset. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve what I have.
The writing helps. I write songs. Dozens.
But sometimes, it’s not enough.
will it ever be?
Author Notes: Hello. Please, don’t ask what this is, and if you do, ask me privately. Or don’t. Whatever, do what you’d like. I love all of you dorks, stay cool