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There are two different types of breakups.
The easy one where you can leave because the person hurt you.
Then there’s the other.... the one where you both love each other but have to let each other go... the one that cuts the deepest. The one that lasts forever.
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How Could You Know?
Last night I cried myself to sleep.
I stayed up as long as I could because I was afraid of my dreams.
This morning I didn’t want to get out of bed.
I had to force myself my anxiety was all in my head.
Today I was working and thought many times about what would happen if I died.
I didn’t think I was worth a second of someone’s time.
Today I answered a call like I do every other hour.
A gentle voice was on the other end and didn’t know it’s power.
We spoke of God and faith, even though I question Him some days.
We shared heartbreak of losing someone to dementia or Alzheimer’s - memories that fade.
We shared the need to want to be heard and not forgotten.
We spoke for what seemed to be days, something that’s not very common.
Did you know I wanted to die today? Did you know I had a plan?
Did you know that my depression began?
How could you know?
How could you know?
How could you know that today your simple conversation would save a life today?
It's like time. You know its passing, and you know it'll end, but you're not sure when that is. If you focus on it, you can hear the ticking. Time is always there. The sadness is always there. Some days, it gets pushed far enough that it doesn't surface for days, but other days it is flamboyantly wearing neon pink in a crowd of black. I guess after awhile, you learn to coat it, with a layer of "I'm okay, I think." I'm broken. I've been broken. But sometimes you have to choose your battles, and if I always talked about how sad I truly was, there would be no room to show you who I'm capable of being. I don't want you to see me for my pain, but for my ability to smile throughout the pain.
Dear boyfriend, I'm depressed.
stars moon and sun
every star is the numbing feeling id get when you kissed my breast and the lovely nothings you whispered in my ear. every moon is the lump in my throat and the heavy breathing when i cried. and every sun is the burning and crackling of my bones the day you left me.
You just meet someone, and the more time you spend with them, life becomes this blur in which all that bad shit in your life is blocked out. They become everything you own, and everything you ever owned. You swear you'd die, just so they could breathe another day. And then one day, hours you used to spend talking to them begin to decrease. They start to fade from your life, and you can't do shit to stop it. And you want to scream out about how much you need them, and how you wish they'd be the same person you fell for, but it never happens like that. And one day they leave, and you hurt so bad, because you know you could've tried to stop it, and you didn't, and you let it eat you, because they were your home, and now all that stands is a broken wall.
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We live in a society that believes you have to fit into a number that doesn't exist to be beautiful. From a young age, so many girls and boys are sculpted into believing that they are not perfect, because their bones don’t stick out. So many people stare at a mirror with disgust, and cover their bodies, because society has picked at their self esteem until there is nothing left but self hate. And to those people that have told me that I am not beautiful because my thighs touch, or that I cannot walk around in a tank top because my arms are more than bones, fuck you. This is my body, not your property, and you have no place to tell me that I cannot love who I am, or believe I am beautiful because I have a stomach. I am more than a number on the scale. I am beautiful, and I don’t need you, or anyone else to tell me otherwise. You can take the lips in which you let your unwanted opinion flow from, and kiss my fat ass.Â
I used to believe that love would fix what i was feeling. I thought having a significant other would magically fix the sadness starting to grow from within me. I would spend my time putting all of my love into some guy who saw me as no more than an opinion, saw me as no more than a piece of ass. For all those guys, I'd build them a boat, and they'd drown me in my own sea. It took me five years to realize that having somebody love me would not fix me. Nobody can save me, and that's why I need to be alone sometimes.. to figure things out on my own, because I have to be there for myself. I cannot allow you, or my friends, or anyone else to shelter me from this. I have to learn to fight my own battles, and there is no way I can learn how to fix this if I let others create my happiness. I am learning to depend less and less on others, and more on myself. And I think that even though things are still really shitty, things are getting better. Because I look at myself, and I am starting to see past everything I hate, and I still hurt, I do, and i probably will for a long while, but I am fixing myself. I am healing myself. I no longer live in the past, but accept it in which it is a lesson that I must learn and build from. I can no longer view myself as broken, and give myself the excuse to sit there and blame my past for everything in the present. It is time I get over this stage in my life, and enter recovery. It is time I let go of my attachment to my depression, and focus on achieving happiness. And I am here, and I am getting stronger, and I am ready to cut out everything toxic to me. Throughout all of this, I have grown closer to myself, and the only thing I want at the end of the day is to end my fight strong, and have you by my side. I'm doing one hell of a job, and without you, or my want to feel happiness, this perspective would have never been reality. Because you were the one at the end of the line telling me I had to fight, when I came to you crying. Without you, I'd never have shared a kiss with you, sitting in my driveway full of cracks, watching the night sky. And I am so thankful for your support, because it's finally starting to become reality to me that I need to find my own happiness. Our love is beautiful, and my mind is beautiful, and I am beautiful, and the world is beautiful, and life as beautiful, and it took me sixteen years to discover that, and now here I am, writing you this letter with the hugest bags under my eyes, and I am sharing the entire contents of myself with you, and it feels so good. And I feel real, and I feel alive. And I think that's all I really needed in the beginning. To not feel like I was dying on the Inside. And I have made it.
Letter to the boy who Opened my Eyes
I’m not common sense smart, and I make a lot of dumb decisions, and I never really fully think things through. I’m kinda that kid who just went through school in a blur. But hell, I’ve discovered many things on my own, and I could talk for hours about dopamine, and serotonin, and acetylcholine, and how they affect you, and what triggers that emotion you get in your body. I could tell you 101 ways to feel better. I could teach you a hell of a lot about love. I could tell you the time the sun sets and when a poem is really good. I can fill your world with comedy, but on the inside I’m dying with facts I can’t really use. I May not be very smart when it comes to a lot, but what is being smart anyway? Ability to read and fill in bubbles? What about discovery. Thats what makes you really smart. Experience. And I love that about me and not in a million years would I ever regret my lack of book smarts, and never in a million years would I trade anything I know. I’m happy this way.
