Isn’t it funny how
concerned you are now that
if I go to the store,
I could catch an illness
and die,
but yet
where was this concern when
an illness was inside me
making me want to die
the last nine fucking years?
Isn’t it funny how
concerned you are now that
if I go to the store,
I could catch an illness
and die,
but yet
where was this concern when
an illness was inside me
making me want to die
the last nine fucking years?
“You’re such a spoiled brat.
I don’t have time for your petty problems.
I have to take care of myself.”
Those are the words you yelled at me
as I sat in the hall
after you hung up on my friend
who told you I was going to try to kill myself.
Coincidentally,
those are also the words you yelled at me
when I decided that I hated you
because I knew at that point
I could never forgive you.
Obviously, there’s a reason
I didn’t kill myself
all those years ago
when I had the chance.
I just wish I knew
what that reason was.
It would make life
a lot simpler now.
I’m so lost.
Why am I here?
Why should I bother to deal with this shit
When all I want to do is stop and quit.