This poem isn't pretty.
The black raindrops under my eyes aren't pretty.
The theme song that would play in my movie is not pretty.
The way I look when I am crying on my closet floor is not pretty.
The way I struggle for breath isn't pretty .
The way I run around my room frightenedly searching for my inhaler is not pretty.
The way my body adjusts to the fetal position is not at all pretty.
The way I dry heave on my counter top when I can't breathe is not fucking pretty.
This is disturbing.
This poem is disturbing.
The pace of my staggered breath is disturbing.
A text saying "I'm worried for your health" is disturbing.
The way I can cry from the lack of a word is disturbing.
The way I can't mechanically move the way the wires decide to weave through my head is disturbing.
The way that the knot in the pit of my stomach that just keeps coming back feels is disturbing.
The way I can't remember the last time I was truly long term happy is disturbing.
I am so tired.
I am so tired of writing depressing poetry.
I am so tired of turning off a fight or flight response.
I am so tired of trying to pretend that I am normal.
I am so tired of the way I obsess over one person's approval.
I am so tired of the way my eyelashes have become all too familiar with water proof mascara.
I am so tired of the way I struggle to shake hands with the mirror.
I am so tired of the way my hands and wrists and arms feel so bare.
I am so tired of the way I go to sleep sweaty and weakened from defenses.
I don't know.
I don't know where I'm going with this poem.
I don't know when I'll finally be okay.
I don't know how to make things get suddenly better.
I don't know the way people can just wake up and feel happy.
I don't know the way I am supposed to interact with him.
I don't know the way to stop being so fucked up or emotionally unstable.
I don't know the way to make everybody content.
I don't know the way to love myself.
I am struggling.
I am suffocating.
I am tormented.
I am terrified.
I am done.
I am desperate.
I am anxious.
I am depressed.
I am in love.
And I am fucking scared.
I am not okay.
I am most definitely not okay.
In fact, I'm nowhere near being okay.
But hey, it's okay to not be okay...
...right?
