why would you ever expect me to handle this


but that's not the way it works
when the clicking of my keyboard
becomes the beating of my heart

click-thump click-thump click-thump

but i'm drowning
swirling into this abyss

and i know no-one wants to read
the mad ramblings of a teenage girl gone insane with depression,
bipolar, anxiety, whatever else you want to throw in the mix

but okay,
you don't have to read this
but i have to write this

because otherwise i'm stuck
and is this feeling of isolation normal?

i just-

i've got years to go until freedom
until i can sink my troubles in vodka instead of tea

but for now i need to 
learn how to smile when it doesn't reach my eyes
and lie like the best of them

even though i can already do that

but sometimes i just hate people
and i wish i was a machine

that, or that i was athletic.

but i don't have a faery godmother,
the best i've got is this.
it isn't much.

so i continue on,
typing out stanzas with the frenzy
of a dying woman

and i bleed out,
black ink smudging
the laptop screen

and i laugh manically
as though going mad will help anything

The End

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