21.10.20
I knew this was coming, I could just feel it.
The breakdowns, the freakouts,
trying so damn hard to keep control, only to have control slip through my fingers like grains of sand.
I didn't realise just how hard I was trying to stay happy.
My patience was like a thread ready to snap at any given moment.
Desperately holding onto being happy, maybe I just need to let go,
maybe I need to be sad for a while.
I keep telling myself I won't go back there, but the more I say it
the more I'm forcing myself to be happy,
but I know I'm already back, right where I left off
writing sad poems and crying.
YOU ARE READING
4. Memories and Feelings That Still Haunt Me
PoetryI've cried too hard for too long as I debated death. Over and over, all I wanted was a quick overdose, a quick way to escape the pain. Until the guilt set it and made me realise, suicide feels too selfish. Instead I turned my sadness into art and my...
