Sometimes I need to sit in silence. Sometimes the silence is deafening. Sometimes it takes me by the throat and squeezes. Sometimes it jump starts my heart. Sometimes I wish it would just take me away; take me away and end my suffering.
I remember watching the blood drip down my leg and I watched it with intrigue until it started to freak me the fuck out. Then I cried. I cried for my life that I wanted to wash down the drain. I cried for the giant hole in my skin.
Every day I would dream up a new way to die. A new set of words to leave behind.
I tried to change things. To get rid of everything that was depressing and dark. I let the sun and bright colors into my bedroom. I hid away my drawings and writings from a darker time. I tried to sweep my depression under the rug. I tried to be a perfect happy girl.
It never worked.
It may have worked for a couple of weeks but the darkness in my brain always crept back. I heard it's squeaky shoes as it walked back to the front of my brain. I felt the invisible heavy blanket it swept over my shoulders.
