confessions of someone who forgot to lock the door this time.

Sometimes I have to fight hard against the visceral knowledge that I’m generally the third-place also-ran, who is only getting attention simply because I was the one stupid enough to stick around the longest.

I’m fighting even harder against the knowledge that I’m a fuckton more broken than I can ever admit to anyone, because if they know I’m broken, then they won’t trust me enough to help them when they need it most.

I struggle daily with the knowledge that I carry this stupid weight that I just want to put down, but I never can because responsible people don’t give others burdens, and good people don’t admit they can’t carry all the things when everyone else around you has more valid reasons for depression.

I fight myself daily over knowing I need help, and being afraid to ask for it in case I really am faking like everyone else seems to think, or even worse, terrified I will find out that when I thought the siblings I hide from were the crazy ones, it was actually me all along.

I spend an inordinate amount of time chastising myself over so many things, that when someone decides to lecture me on something I’ve done wrong, it forms an endless obsession loop, repeating over and over and over. And over.

I wake up because I have to. Anything I do, since I’m being honest, is only because I have to. I have a responsibility, and this is what is expected of me. Lather, rinse, repeat, and oh hey here’s yet another Monday. I wake up because I have to.

I’m tired, and tired, and tired, and just so f*****g tired.

I hold all this toxic s**t inside because I can’t be the one to cause the scene, and I can’t be the one who needs. It sucks and I’m trapped in this role that I never asked for, but got anyways. I’d say thanks mom, but can’t really see that it’s her fault. I’m thinking I was a horrible person in my former life.

There’s a real possibility I’m still one, now.

I wonder if I will ever be brave enough to just step off the ledge, say f**k it, and crash.

Or fly.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I'm in the same boat you are dear Jennie. Run or stay. Fight or hold silence.
"I wonder if I will ever be brave enough to just step off the ledge, say f**k it, and crash.
Or fly."
I understand the above lines. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and your words.