I don’t want this.
I don’t want this.
I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT.
It’s not hard to feel joy,
But it’s hard to understand it won’t last.
It’s hard to hang onto it knowing it can disappear like that.
These emotional swings are more overwhelming then anything.
That gut wrenching pain at night, screaming in an empty room all alone,
For it to just go away for a second, just one second to feel sane.
One second before you’re an inch closer to put a bullet through your brain, just one.
Then to feel crazy when you feel fine the next day and morning after morning.
It comes back and you wonder how much more you can take.
It’s more than a depressed soul, it feels like the devil is inside of you,
Picking and itching at every single inch of you.
Turning you inside out to only beat you then turn you back in, to feel all the pain within.
I don’t want this, I hate it, I want to be dead so I don’t have to constantly deal with this.
But I can’t do it because I’m too weak.
I can’t do it because of my belief, I don’t want God to shame me.
I just want someone to hold to tell me it will be okay.
Someone to love, someone I call my actual mom.
Because that’s the comfort I need, the comfort of a mother when I’m reaching my lowest of lows.
A parent to call that won’t agree that I am crazy.
Someone anyone, so I don’t feel alone.
Someone might as well stab me over and over for the pain I sometimes feel.
Just make this go away, because it seems to get worse and worse as time keeps going.
Year after year, it seems that I feel more than before.
Just make it go away, because I don’t want it,
I hate it,
And I hate myself for it, because it all seems to be a big delusional mess that not even an OCD freak can keep clean.