Your Worst Nightmare

sitting on the edge of the

shallow, pitiful grave

that i had been digging for myself,

swinging her feet and waiting patiently

for my rage to dull enough so that

she could kiss the blisters on my palms.

i was trying to bury myself alive

and she sat waiting with flowers

and open arms and a tenderness

that i had never felt before in my life;

a tenderness that i had

entirely stopped believing existed.

how could i not crawl out?

how could i not wipe the dirt off my knees

and come repenting to her palms up?

how could i not smile back at her

and thank her for the flowers

and say, "let's take a break.

let's finish this another time.

there's always tomorrow.

there's always tomorrow."

2009: wow I was so stupid last year

2010: wow I was so stupid last year

2011: wow I was so stupid last year

2012: wow I was so stupid last year

2013: wow I was so stupid last year

2014: wow I was so stupid last year

2015: wow I was so stupid last year

2016: wow I was so stupid last year

2017: wow I was so stupid last year

2018: wow I was so stupid last year

I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want attention. I don’t want pity.

I want to feel loved and needed and valued and I want to be respected. For some people, whether it’s because of their upbringing or mental health, that’s extremely difficult.

My mind is in a very dark place. I don’t want to romanticize depression. It’s a terrifying monster that consumes me. Most people in my life don’t see it. And they will never know.