I lay in bed all night fighting the sleep that keeps me sane
and scroll through timelines and stories
trying to catch even the slightest glimpse
of him.
Bawling my eyes out when I finally see his face
because I know he’s doing fine without me and
I’m not fine at all.
Now I’m sitting here reminiscing on the pictures of us in my camera roll
begging that soon I wake up from this nightmare
but knowing that it will only come down to
desperate text messages and recycled tears.
It’s 10:02 pm as I write this.
It’s also the same time at which I’m staring blankly into my medicine cabinet
wondering how many milligrams it will take to
end this hurt I’m feeling
forever.
I’m reaching for the bottle as I wonder how
love-
the one thing that gives you so much life,
is also the same thing that makes you want to
take it away.
My hands shake as I try to untwist the lid
wiping away at the tears that stream out of my tired brown eyes.
I can’t see straight.
Some would say I’m not thinking straight either
what do they know?
I bet they’ve never experienced the physical pain of heart break
or the gut wrenching knots that form in your stomach
taking your appetite away for days at a time.
I bet they don’t know how
the lump that stays fixed in the back of your throat feels
every time you try to choke back your inevitable tears
and I bet they’ve never
felt as low as the ground I’ve laid on
while I hugged my knees to my heaving chest
and screamed at God to take me off this earth.
So again I say,
what do they know?
My voice is shaky.
I can’t speak.
I’ve never been the type to talk through my problems
instead I just sit here
building walls and never building doors.
I guess I just don’t see the point in trying to convince
unaccepting and doubtful people of my condition
or going to sit for hours
at a therapist’s office while they get paid to tell me their version
of what they think is wrong with me.
Everyone talks but no one actually listens.
However, the act of concern and support is astounding.
Round of applause.