Bring Me Flowers.

Heads in the clouds as she writes this all down. Down to the bottom she goes, where she stops nobody knows. But this girl already knows where she’ll end up. She’ll end up stuck, thinking “what the fuck?”. Yeah she’s like, “what the fuck happened to me? I thought therapy got the devil all the way the fuck out of me.” But nope, she’s still a prisoner of war, shooting down the darkness cause her mind is an obliterated mess.

You know those people you wish you could be? Those rich and famous people all on t.v. Maybe if I was rich and famous I could finally see what’s wrong with me. Get the perfect dosage of Prozac to put me back on track. Maybe if my mind was wired differently I wouldn’t have to struggle to be myself. I wouldn’t have to struggle to get my medicine off the top of the shelf. See I been through this before, I hit the floor then come back up like I never been that low before. I ride around town with my windows down, but the dudes I ride with dont even know they girl is down. They don’t even know the insides of her mind was like when the circus comes to town and its just so much craziness going on and on but there’s no end, down to the bottomless pit of disaster she keeps fallin faster and faster. Everyone’s screaming “Catch her, catch her!” But nobody actually does. Nobody actually cares.

Nobody cares if that girl ends up in the back seat of a car somewhere, strung out on what she got dared, took too much cause she didn’t even care, now she in a hospital bed, even though she wished she was dead. It wasn’t a suicide attempt, it was an attempt to be free from all the anxiety. It was an attempt to just want to feel okay cause she’s been alone and depressed all day. Her mother is a saint, would do anything for her but she doesn’t know her daughter is way past gone like a 90’s murderer. See back then she was a happy little girl, destined for greatness but then this illness crept up on her and tainted her mind so she could feel less and less. She would go through times of stress even when she was mostly blessed. This illness wasn’t a 24-hour bug or something she could shake off. It was more like a cancer in a family of flu’s. It drilled a little hole in her brain where good things leaked out of it and bad things crawled in. The bad things broke her peace of mind down, until she didn’t own the last piece of mind she had left. She always felt depressed and wanted an escape, she was always looking for a guy in the superman cape. She couldn’t tell what was real or fake, she just wanted a drug that would make reality okay. She asked herself daily, “why me?” But she never got an answer till she was six feet deep.

People only remembered her after she took that leap, after she was already gone and forever asleep. The title of her life was like a movie clip that was blurry and out dated. She had always felt she didn’t belong so she just faded slowly till there was nothing left. Nothing left to hurt her wrist or make her pissed cause she just wanted to exist without feeling shitty in a state of mind without having pitty from another one of those fake ass supermans who claim they can save her but really they can’t even save themselves.

Nothing could save her or bring her back to life. So that night she went home crying because on the inside she was dying. She would use her imagination and make herself believe this was a battle she could fight. She thought just a blade and some pills would make everything all right. Stupid little girl, you live in the real world. You can dream all you want, but when you open your eyes, reality is still real girl.

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