Rachel

17

Are You Serious?

Are you serious?
Are you actually serious right now?
Did you really tell me to “get over it”?
Did you really tell me to “be happy”?
Did you really tell me to “just eat”?
Do you not know how hard this is for me
just staying alive?
Do you not know how much I struggle
every single day?
Do you not know that I am doing all I can?
To keep my heart beating,
to keep moving,
to keep living.
Do you not know that I am at war
with my own mind?
That my brain and my heart have been torn in half
and both sides are raging to destroy each other,
and sometimes one side falls, but then gets back up.
And it never ends.
Every second of every minute of every day
I am fighting a war

and I think I’m losing.

So don’t tell me to “get over it”.
Because you have no idea.
How a poisonous weed has taken root in my mind,
How it spreads and spreads and
will
not
stop.
How I am slowly being smothered by the all-encompassing
darkness.
How every tiny bit of light in my heart and mind
is being snuffed out.

The things that once gave me joy
are nothing.
My one-time saving graces
are meaningless.
Because of this thing.
This darkness and poison that’s eating me alive.
This acidic black ink that has spoiled the ivory cloth of my life.

I’ve been told—not often—
that I’m strong.
But that’s not true.
I’m not strong, I’m tired.
So tired.
Tired of the fight.
So I hold tight to my black rose
as the thorns pierce my numb fingers
and lay down in my mahogany coffin
and I pray to the god I don’t believe in
for a better tomorrow.