This is how I will love you. I will wrap my hands around each of my organs and rip them out one by one. I will call it poetry and make you watch. I will blame you for the mess. When it rains, I will take you out to taste the thunder with me. We will dance until lightning strikes the ground around our feet. We won’t stop until flames kiss our skin. When you complain about the way your toes burn, I will convince you that this is called love, and you will whisper an apology into my lips. I will be thinking of metaphors when you touch me. And when the winds become too strong, when it is all screaming chimes and unhinged doors, I won’t stay to clean up the mess. I will pack my things while you beg me not to go. I will write a love letter in the broken glass. I will sign it with my blood on the way out. All of my poems have sharp teeth and they are a warning that I do not do anything in a whisper. No. I am the type of person who comes with a first aid kit. Just in case you hurt yourself while loving me. Just in case it almost kills you.
I don’t think people realise how hard it is to re-discover the person you were before depression or even try to remember your own personality
and if you’ve had depression since early childhood you don’t even know if you have your own personality
you didn’t have time to be a person before depression
and it’s scary having no idea who you are
I want to be alone. Devoid of every “thing” and every “one”. How is it to be surrounded by so many people and feel so empty. Not unhappy, empty.
I realized something about myself a long time ago..I will live alone and eventually die alone somewhere in the dark. Having anything with other people for too long is a disappointment. I will always end up disappointed. I am disappointed. In myself most of all.
I want to be alone. Once again.