Wires

The wires coursing through my body, making up the pulsing mess I call my heart, keeping me going when I just want to shut down.

I hate them.

They run through my brain, the electricity a constant, never ending pain. It comes in the dead of night in surges, happy to keep me running at all times, desperately trying to catch up.

I hate them so much.

I see them in my arms, my face, neck, ears, eyelids. The pastel blue happy to make itself known against the paper I call my skin. The color is haunting, but one of the few constants in my life, if not the only. It's eerily comforting.

I want to obliterate them.

There's this constant urge in my brain to remove the wires. To just cut them out of my skin, make that candy apple red replace the despicable blue.

But I can't.

Because I know I am loved, because I know at least one person would miss me. I could never do that to my loved ones. I would never put them through that pain of losing someone they might actually care about.

That want never goes away though.

I know of that one other constant. The one I despise more than the other. That undying want to give up, a little whisper at all times in the back of my mind. I can ignore it by pretending.

It's easy to cover it up.

I drown it out with other thoughts. Thoughts to make people think I'm better than I am. Make them think I'm getting better, taking the medicine, being honest with the doctors. I lie to everyone. Everyone.

But it's so tiring.

To pretend to be happy. To try and fight those thoughts at every waking moment. To fear that all my friends are just pretending. The anxiety takes over most days and I have to push it down to make room for the fake me everyone knows.

And I'm done.