Depression Stories

love hurts.

I think when you're 16 you don't expect it to hurt as much as it does
but what the fuck would you know about love till it slams into your chest and knocks the wind out of your lungs
so you fall in love
and he leaves
and you stop washing your hair
and your skin is bruised with the creases in your sheets
and your mother wants to yell at you but your blank stare just makes her eyes tear up and you're not supposed to see your mother cry
and you'll probably try destroying yourself because that's what you do when you're 16
so you'll pull apart razors and hide them someplace your parents can find them but they never do
and you'll start smoking even though it makes you cough so hard you throw up and you can't stand the burning in your throat
and you'll run away without ever leaving your bedroom
and maybe you'll kiss too many boys who mean nothing but mean all too much and they will all look a little like him or nothing at all
and you let him fuck you up
and you leave him drunk voicemails and you haven't cried in 23 days even though you're always crying
and you promise you will never love anything again because it hurts more than they warned
no one told you that this was love
and maybe it's not love
maybe it's more
maybe it's something from another world
maybe it's just your bones breaking again
either way it fucking burns
and now you're older
and you know to expect to come out the other side missing a few pieces of yourself
but sometimes you get caught up and you forgot that it's supposed to hurt
because it's not supposed to fucking hurt
and you blink and you're bleeding again
and it's like you're 16 all over again
trying to rip yourself to shreds while you try to pick up all the pieces of yourself
everyone thinks you're mysterious because your mouth is sewn shut with the sudden death of past loves but you're just so fucking quiet because they've taken so much out of you, you can hardly open your eyes, forget about your mouth,
and I guess the worst part about love dying out is that you don't die with it,
you just attend the funeral and visit the grave every time you're drunk. you're always so goddamn drunk.

- not any of ours -