#deemakrites

i remember in this bathroom two years ago when i was trying not to die and i started feeding myself again and i couldn't stop because part of me couldn't believe it, couldn't believe i was allowed this. couldn't believe i could have something i wanted. couldn't believe i could take up space; and maybe i still don't, but i'm doing it. i'm doing it and it's horrifying and i want to go back to being so small no one would get affected but god what a life it would be if we could all feel like being born meant that we were supposed to be here and that we could truly make the best of it and that it would really work.

i'm not very afraid at all anymore, which scares me. tough times are one thing, but consequences still exist; and as an alive person it's on me to navigate that existence. i know this. i keep wanting to see what would happen if i don't do what i'm supposed to, knowing that the results will be unpleasant, unenjoyable, and unwanted. i'm here and i'm not some canvas for my own stupid experiments but that is what everything is but no, no it's not. and i'm not an isolated event- i keep acting like that isn't a fact. sure you're depressed but can you maybe shut up sometimes? i have homework to do. i'd really rather keep my 3.72 at least. genuinely don't see the point in any of this anymore; i'm sorry, i wish i had more of an action-oriented spirit/proactiveness right now. like yeah sure, the trees are out there under the sun, and my family's in the house, talking, eating, meeting; sure, the ac makes my skin cold and my brother's smile makes my heart warm; sure, my friends make the gray feel ancient and homely, and my girlfriend feels like the first strip of sunlight after a long night; sure, it's all beautiful. i still don't have it in me to hold my hands in front of my face and breathe in; tell myself the things i need to do are things that need to be done; that life is to be lived and that today, living means opening my laptop and finishing the three overdue assignments. most miserable paragraph i've ever written but if i could make just some people hear what it's like in my head, maybe things wouldn't be so do-or-die. why do we always have to go big or go home? why can't it be okay to go small and not have to go home- what the hell am i saying. there were wars happening and the people were still studying because education is a weapon; i know that. can i hide forever? little good that would bring anyway. would've could've ideas are stronger in hindsight and a bad place- regret comes years later, seeping. i'm sure i wouldn't be doing better if i was an english major or a physics major- if that's even a thing; anyway. i wouldn't be doing better if i was back in my hometown; maybe i'd be on my way to getting married in a year- i wouldn't know then the people that contribute a major brilliance to my life now; maybe i'd still be starving- maybe i'd be dead before 40 even. i know you can't tell me it's okay that i'm not being productive. i know that's not how this works. i know you can't hold my hands and assure me it's okay that i'm failing; that it'll be fine either way. i don't know if it will be- i think this is scary.

my quiet night, burning and gaunt. i'm just tired.

if i could be present without pretence/ i would hold sunlight in my hands, and not burn/ it would be a full day, and you would be here/ or u wouldn't- it wouldn't matter/

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