still
If I give in, after useless hours staring at the death-crushing nothingness above, those pills kept safe at the bottom of the drawer work, of course they do, the doctor discreetly looking at my hands twisting around whilst I spoke softly about how everything was just fine mum discreetly looking at the black pools around my eyes that have been there since I bought my first spiral bound notepad and borrowed dad’s dictionary, and my brain stops firing in every direction and I can pretend to sleep but I stop feeling my heart racing inside me beating the hell out of my throat and, it’s true, there’s space for me to breathe again but there’s nowhere to go now.
And I would regret them more, all these years gone by and I always wake up knowing I would, if I could feel anything right now.
And it’s true, everything is just fine.
camelia
margarida
NAFFF 