garbage time | rants and things

late words i guess

I wrote this poem the other night just for the sake of writing something and the result is something that I identify with and part of me doesn't hate the way it turned out

so imma just post it here

(possible trigger warning??)

***

You spilt the pitcher of sweet tea.

Hardly anything was on the counter, really,

but that didn't matter.

You still spilt it.

And if you were anyone else,

It wouldn't be a big deal.
Would it? Maybe not.

But again,

It doesn't matter.

Because it's a big deal to you.

Because your day consisted of

Getting an 84 on that Algebra quiz

And old you would have been thankful

But now you're just tearing yourself down for it

Because Kyle got an 89,

And he told you he did awful,

Which means that if an 89 is awful,

You literally just failed

The whole goddamn class.

And you're tearing yourself down

Over a B.

The spilt sweet tea matters to you

Because you woke up this morning

And the thought

Of pulling yourself out of bed

Almost made you vomit

Because you just didn't see the point in it

And no one would exactly care

If you don't pull yourself out of bed

Because you spend every waking minute of the day

Believing that you exist

Just so you can take up space.

No one would exactly care

If you stopped breathing.

But you pulled yourself up, anyway.

The spilt sweet tea matters to you

Because you've ruined your sleep schedule

Once again.

Not because you binge watched It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia,

But because you kept spending all of your nights,

Kept awake by the thoughts that come in

Like a gust of wind at 10 PM.

By 10:30 came around,

You're telling yourself to calm down.

"Just go to sleep, it's fine."

11 PM comes,

And you're manically

Scratching up your arms

And across your chest

Because everything's too much

And hurting yourself

Is the only thing you can do.

Now it's midnight.

Your scratching's basically stopped.

But now you just lie in bed

Almost lifeless

Because you wish you actually were.

You lie there

And you're telling yourself,

"I can't wake up.

No one would care if I don't wake up.

I don't have an actual purpose in life

And I just don't enjoy living."

And three months ago,

The thought of dying terrified you.

And now you seem to favor it.

And now you spend every day 

wishing

It would actually happen.

The spilt sweet tea matters to you

Because it's just contributing

To the ruins

Of your self esteem

And how you believe

That you can't do anything right,

you always ruin everything,

And how

You just don't deserve to be around

If you can't even get a liquid

Into a cup.