a letter
to a girl
with the same
scars as me
to a girl
who also covers up
like me with sweaters
in June
with bracelets
to you
who against all odds
are enduring
the same war
as I was
(or if I'm honest am)
but don't read what's in the parenthesis
that's for me
well I guess you saw it
scratch that
I'll try to be more
upbeat
when they tell you to smile
do it
they'll keep asking
until you do
so it saves you time
this way
if they ask how you are
change it up
from the
"I'm fine"
they already know you're lying
but if you change it up
it keeps them guessing
I mean how can a fucked up, depressed person
come up with
so many adjectives
but if they're reading this
tell them I said to be honest
to tell them how you
really are feeling
that you are struggling
to breathe
that you're drowning
show them your battle scars
but be prepared
for their reaction
or lack thereof
they'll be shocked
and hurt
for a minute
and then
it's the meds
the er
and the hospital
I think I'm supposed to tell you that it gets better
so I will
It gets better
there I said it
one thing I can cross off my list
but if I'm being honest
you know
see sentence
I don't even know
if I'm being honest with you
it doesn't get better
I mean sure
the manic
crazy thoughts
might quiet down
after a bit
you'll be able to go to bed
without wishing
you don't wake up
you'll be able to look at
knives
and meds
and not think about IT
scratch that last part
you'll still think about it
I mean it's human nature
I think
I still don't know why I do it
maybe there isn't ever going to be a reason
for people like us
making we'll go through the
rest of our lives
wondering what's
around that corner
and maybe
just maybe
that'll be enough
but I'm getting ahead of myself
I'm not going to tell you it'll be fine
but actually
it will be
not in the way you
want it to
not in any way you thought of
wished of
but in a different way
you'll eventually make
peace
with the war within
you'll notice it
less
you won't feel so numb
you'll notice the life happening
around you
the things that grew quiet
amongst the banging
in your head
will suddenly make sound
the mute button
will become
unpressed
you'll still think of it
at least I do
you'll think of it 5 times
a day
and then it will be 3 times
and then 1
the number will never reach 0
and some days
it will be more than
1
but at least it won't be 10
you'll learn to be okay
with not being okay
and yes that's fucked up
but eventually
it will be normal
like getting used to
freckles
or the body you don't like
or the way your voice sounds
on recordings
it will become a little
more quiet
you'll be able to think
about other things
I can't promise you that you'll find a reason
I haven't yet
and it's been 6 years
I can't tell you that life gets easier
because I don't think it does
but breathing will get less hard
waking up will still suck
making small talk will still be quite a task
smiling will hurt
playing pretend will get exhausting
but you'll find a way
to accept this pain
because this pain
is better than the war
that you have grown accustom to
it will eventually grow quiet
and another pain will enter
and so on
because the cycle
never really ends
for people like us
but we accept our vices
we accept our oddities
and move on
with the scars we made ourselves
and with the false hope
