I have read every single self-help book in existence just in case the medication stops working
Delusions aren’t quirky they are obstacles that will follow me to the grave
I only show you the calm exterior because the last person who walked into a moment where there was no more air left for me and the tears came faster than I thought they could decided to fade away
And some nights I can’t fall asleep because I can’t stop remembering the nights he fell asleep in my bed with me in his arms
His hands were so gentle, his warmth brought me closer to him the night thunder woke only me while he remained dreaming of worlds I cannot imagine
Some people like me can live comfortably without being chained to medication but I am not lucky like that
When I tell people they ask if I have tried meditation, yoga, religion, but fail to realize the serotonin in my brain is disappearing without a trace and it’s still a cold case figuring out where it went
There is a shame surrounding the people like me but on days I forget the pills that keep me from jumping from high places, I enter some sort of 11th dimension no one but me has found
I don’t show people the ugly, only the calm exterior of someone who sees the world slowed down some days and the world sped up others
Shame still lives here but only on the worst days where I can’t help but destroy myself
