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Friday, September 17, 2010


Just cause I am recovering doesn't mean you shouldn't care.
I wanted to tell you that day was a 9/10 scale of feeling depressed.
Today is a 7/10.
Don't remember what it's like to be 0/10.
Serotonin helps me survive.
Happy things? What happy things? I don't remember.
What's 10/10? When I truly want to die.
That's how close I came this week.
My meds keep me functioning. I get showered. I wash my hair.
I am not the same person if I am not on them, but I am, so you see me as sane.
Each tablet acts like a splint to keep me from falling to pieces.
It still hurts.
Hurt comes from nowhere and hurts, still does.
I sleep to cope.
Even if sleep is troubled.
I fall physically ill, because I am ill inside.
I break out in rashes.
I function for the sake of others, as far as I can.
But I just need you to care, so I don't disappear.
Like water on the ground percolating away, disappearing, still there but not anymore.
Seeping, like tears, for I am made of tears.
Meanwhile, I pop more pills to break out of the physical pain the tears bring me.