every day, ever since i stopped taking my anti-psychotic medications, i have thought about suicide.
i fantasize about it daily.
the warm release of death,
the feeling of nothing,
the dark blur hazing my vision,
falling into the deep pool of blackness.
i know exactly how i would do it, too.
a full bottle of percocet, a full bottle of benzodiazepines, and moonshine.
quick, painless, floating.
i don't care about anything anymore.
nothing makes me happy anymore.
all i know anymore is the feeling of stress and unexplainable shaking and pain.
music feels empty.
i have no desire to eat.
i have no desire to take care of myself.
i don't want to do anything anymore.
people have told me that i'm being immature.
people have told me that i am not as emotionally developed as them.
people have told me that it will get better.
i used to believe that it would get better.
but why does it feel worse with everyday that passes?
i wish that i could just exist,
invisible to everyone,
an entity that exists without worry.
i wish i could be alone with my girlfriend forever.
i want to die young,
or old with her.
but everything feels empty,
and still, i sit here,
dreaming about suicide.
YOU ARE READING
everything changes (but we all stay the same)
Poetryif my life could be replayed, if i could share my struggles over the course of time, if i could create such a thing, an endless recording of my life; it would be over hours and hours of overthinking. - (trigger warning for frequent, graphic descr...
