well, that didn't work: an autobiography

peppermint

i'm sitting and drinking the last of the peppermint tea you got me a few months ago. it took me forever to finish it because i hate peppermint but i stomached it because i love you.

yesterday you told me you can't do this anymore. it's not my fault, you tell me. it's not even yours. it's your depression and it's mine too. you said we need time to make ourselves healthier and better. i just keep wondering, how much time is left?

i can't even breathe without thinking about your laugh and every time i blink i see your face. it takes every ounce of resistance to not text you. i don't think this is helping my mental health. i wonder if it's helping yours.

i drop my tea and it spills everywhere. i can't do anything but stare at it spread all over the hardwood floor.

—is this it?

(n.s.)