Worn Down

Sometimes i don't think other people understand, what it's like to want to die. Sometimes, it hurts so bad that you are in physical pain, wishing to die.

People just think depression is being sad but it's not. I used to think the same thing, and for the first two or so years i thought i was right.

I could manage it, with surface cuts on my thighs. Distracting myself with other people's problems.

But then i started to notice that when it was dark and i was lonely, i just wanted to be dead. No specific reason, just wanted to be dead.

Then one day, i took that razor to my wrist and it was the most relieving thing i had ever done to myself.

I watched as the blood ran down my arm

Into the water

Down the side of the tub

Relieving

And peaceful

That was my new favorite place, the bath

I thought the red rivers that my blood made in the water were beautiful and mesmerizing, the
way the blood dispurced when it hit the water

The feeling you get when the blood drips from your arm

My mother never understood the beauty of those red rivers, i was the only one

They sucked me in

I was obsessed with them

One day, i couldn't bear not to see those red rivers so i did it

Over and over and over

Arms and legs, hips and ribs

The red rivers turned into a red pond;

No, a red ocean and i thought

“Finally, this is it!”

So I sank into that beautiful ocean but sadly to my surprise…

I did not drown

Age 12 holding onto that blade
Praying my life, it would fade
Tired of fighting for survival
What I need? A major revival

Age 13, my old english class
"come to his party, have a glass"
18 years old, I get in his truck
"where is cheyanne?" I think im stuck
Pushed to the back, held onto like tape
He pulled up my dress, I knew it was rape

Age 14, a tub full of water
Cut after cut, my body gets hotter
Killing myself, praying to die
"Im okay" telling mama a lie
Feeling happy is only a wish
Numb to everything, except deaths kiss

Age 15, still leaving scars
"Jokes" about getting hit by cars
A really close friend, almost a brother
"He's sweet and charming" said my mother
But he asked me to talk, I said okay
Unwanted neck kisses and touches.. I wanted away

Age 16, drugs, cuts and hiding
Depression, anxiety, PTSD, I'm fighting
I still want to die, but therapy is helping
Taking my meds, "I'm better", I'm telling

Just now, a mirage of sound  
Heard from the wall heater    
I never use.  
   
Rain landing from above,  
That's the only way I know    
As precious little visits where I live.  
   
I look out the front door    
And see the vortex of raindrops.  
Feel the chilled night air on my face.  
   
Inhale deeply that chill like arctic.  
Slowly, I absentmindedly    
Pull my threadbare robe around me.  
   
Easing back into my    
Slightly less cold apartment,  
Closing the door of drafts.  
   
By the time I sit back down    
Where I now write this,  
All is thick with stillness.  
   
This small gift that has drifted  
Out of earshot in predawn mists.  
How vacant the gesture makes me feel.