“How are you?”

“How are you?”

Keep it in and everything will be okay. Just keep it in. Just breathe. Breathe! Just fucking  breathe; you are so incapable of anything, my God! Breathe. Keep it in. Stop shaking. You need to stop shaking. Stop shaking right now. I’m so sorry that I am… shh stop keep it in. Pretend it’s not there. I can’t; this is... stop. Stop breaking down. You don’t matter. You don’t get to break down. You need to be okay. Be okay. Keep it in. Bottle it up. I can’t. You have to. I hate myself. No one cares, now shut up. No thoughts, no feeling, no anything, just be okay. Okay?

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“What’s wrong?’

You ask me “what’s wrong”

and I am really trying to stay strong.

But I sit around all day long

with a tornado for a mind and crypt as a bed,

with demons ripping me into pieces within my head,

and the only thing I want is to be dead.

Yes, when I touch the cool air

there is cold, but really no feelings there.

And I’ve noticed that the way I love remains unfair:

push push away,

but my soul begs you to stay.

And through these tears I admit I am afraid

because throughout the years

that I have been here

my purpose has been blurry and a little unclear.

My body rocks as my heart stops,



Then the numbness of death fills my chest

like the same feeling of what little love I have left,

the little bit of hope which makes me obsessed.


I must go.

So I drag my body, slow.

Slowly my skin scabs and bruises

and I’m content with all the blood my body loses.

I know, my words don’t seem to make much sense,

but the feeling in my body is so intense.

I’m sorry for not being okay

and I’m sorry if my love is just in your way.

And I am sorry that there’s never enough or way too much for me to say.