“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

I wish that were true.

I wish I believed it,

I wish every negative experience made me braver,

More confident,

_Stronger_.

But that’s not how my life works.

No, what doesn’t kill me makes me want to kill myself.

I can’t do this again.

I just can’t.

Every time, it hurts more.

Every time, I get closer and closer.

The scars on my heart only get deeper.

The scars on my skin don’t fade.

And as I’m drifting,

As I’m slipping away from the blissful “okay” I’d been feeling,

I know this:

If I sink down,

If I fall now,

I will not come back.

This could be the one that breaks me,

The one that changes everything.

So I’m fighting,

Fighting to hold myself up,

Fighting to survive,

Fighting to stay awake, stay alive.

I don’t want to do this again.

I was _happy_.

I felt it, I know what it’s like.

I smiled without trying,

I woke up because I wanted to.

But it’s fading away.

I don’t eat until I’m shaking and cold,

Don’t smile until I think they’ll worry.

My brain never shuts off and my body can’t stand up.

Every morning I’m more tired,

Every evening I’m more empty.

I’m listening to old songs,

The ones that used to make me feel better.

I’m listening to sad songs,

The ones that remind me of all I don’t have.

Can I even feel anything?

Playing Baby Don’t Cut and Hold On,

Trying to scare myself away from sharp objects,

But I don’t even care.

I just

Don’t

Care.

I thought writing this would help,

But all it’s shown me is that it’s already too late.

I’m depressed. Again.

Hiding won’t help.

Nothing will.

This is all I’ll ever be.

I won’t fall in love,

I won’t be proud of myself,

I won’t be happy.

In this grey space, at least I have one comfort:

I’m home. This is where I belong.