22:32

I give up.

I guess that now
at 10:20pm
with tear tracks down my face
And smudged mascara
With undone homework
And worries of days to come
That I decided that I fucking give up.

I’m not even feeling anything anymore.

Water goes down my throat
Like air goes through my fingers
When I stick my hand
Out the window
To feel less derealised
And disconnected
From the world.

Food goes in the bin
In the morning
And midday
But in the evening
When my parents watch
(To make sure I eat
And don’t get back
To where I was)
Food crawls down my throat
Like a dried up snail
On a Texan road
In August.

I don’t want to feel nothing anymore.

I guess that
What I’m trying to say
Is while I may look down
And sad
And tired
On the inside
I feel nothing anymore
Like an empty room
My voice echos in my head
My hands feel a million miles away
And my friends
Are on another planet.

But I smile through it.

I lie about being okay
I lie about feeling down
I lie about being tired
I lie
Because inside
There’s nothing but space
So why not fill it
With fake emotions
That I can put on?

I give up.

People say that
Suicidal is a feeling.

I know that’s not true
Because I can’t feel anymore.

Yet I have never felt like I want to leave this earth than I do right now.

I smile.
Through the empty.
I laugh.
Pretend I can feel the happy.
I cry.
Pretend I can feel anything.

I
Give
Up.

And I’m sorry.

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