when i tell you my heart is breaking and my wrists are shattering under the fists of a mental illness.
don’t try to compare, don’t tell me about your DEPRESSION like it is some kind of game and you desperately want to win. if i try to take you out for coffee and talk to you about slammed doors,claw marks, and stony silences, please please please try not to tell me about how you’ve got it worse and that i need to be okay for YOU. (when i can’t even be okay for myself)
this isn’t a competition, i am not trying to win. it is not about who is sicker, who gets admitted, who is the skinniest, who is the closest to dying. who shoots themselves in the head, who takes a pile of pills, who winds up dead.
winning means dying. and i don't want to die (most of the time)
honestly. when you whine and say “i want to dieeeee i want to kill myself, my life sucksssssssss”
i don’t tell you that i think about non existence most of the time we are together and about the bottle of sleeping pills sitting just in front of you on the dashboard.
this is not easy. i just need for you to listen.