Little Victories

I know I’m good at numbers because every day is a math lesson.

I count the days since my last attempt and wonder how soon before the next.

I look at my wardrobe filled with long sleeve t-shirts and the empty cabinets where the pills used to be.

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Sometimes We Talk

Sometimes I have conversations with myself, inner thoughts I don’t share with no one else.

I ask how does it feel to mean nothing, to have no one love you and make it seem like it’s your fault. How does it feel to be in a room full of laughs and wish for silence because your loneliness feels less metaphorical.

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Someone Who Loves Me

My experience of romance can easily be called self-torment.

I knew I deserved better but still I stayed, never wondering what would happen the day better finally came along.

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