We are not saints.
We are not flawless.
We are no better than any other person in this world.
We can be selfish.
We can be unkind.
We can destroy good things.
Good people.
We are not saints.
Everybody is just trying to do their best day in and day out.
Show a little compassion.
Blackout
The houses are dark
The entire neighborhood has been hit
The snow is so quiet
So peaceful
The candles flickering in the darkened living room
The flashlights spastically shining through the neighbors windows
The crunch and slush under my boots as I walk to the car
The steady rhythm of my windshield wipers
The hum of the radio against the stark silence of the night.
And the rest of the town has no idea.
I need you
Delete.
Please answer
Delete.
Please see this
Delete.
I can’t pull it together
Delete.
I’m falling apart
Delete.
Help
Delete.
Please I feel so alone
Delete.
I’m terrified to look at you and admit that my worst fear has come true.
I can’t bear to look you in the eye and say
“I think I’m getting bad again”
I’m driving around town aimlessly in the rain.
Looking for someplace to go.
Looking for someone who cares.
For someone who can help.
But I have nowhere to go
My eyes are streaming like the rain
And the road is wobbling underneath me.
About give way.
I don’t know what’s wrong.
Why haven’t you found me yet?
Maybe someday you’ll understand why I write as I do.
Mental illness is not a cage it is a room.
With four blank walls.
No doors.
No windows.
No sounds.
No reason.
No escape.
