GOD IF YOU'RE THERE
I COULD USE A LITTLE HELP.
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
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'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