The Twelfth of February, 2017.

I want to want to be alive,
But these days it's so hard to breathe in and breathe out without giving in to my innermost desires to scream
And end it all. 
You see I am not right in the mind,
Not now, anyway.
I see blue in the same way that you see blue and green is green and yellow is yellow, but my mind is not right.
And joy is a concept that my mind cannot process in the same way that I can process the color blue and the color green and the color yellow.
Can't you see?
I am not right.
I write in hopes that I will someday find myself somewhere in between the lines,
But my mind is not right and my pen is not filled with the proper ink and the lines in my notepads are too spread out and these pills cannot stop the voices inside of my head.
But blue is still blue.
The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, but the demons are so loud.
Don't lie and tell me that you can't hear them too.
Their syllables echo inside of me
I know that you can hear them too!
I see smiles with perplexity and mimic them.
I can't even say that word out loud, perplexity, without stuttering, but I can write it over and over again. 
​I am drinking wine from a coffee cup, my desk is filled with books that I will never read and pills that will never fix me.
My mind is not right. 
My closet is always rotating with new combinations of cloth that I hope will define me in a new way to the world but I hate the way the collar rubs against my neck.  
I see her smiling across the bar, but not even the liquid can mask my insecurities enough to go over and say hello,
So I just sleep alone
Night in and night out. 
I used to pray to God, but each night the prayers got shorter and shorter until my tongue lost the right to say his name.
I write so openly because I know not a single eye but mine will find themselves scanning these words and even if they do their minds will probably be right and these words will be lost somewhere in its translation from madness to sanity.
Blue to you is still blue to me, but I will never understand that smile on your Instagram feed.
Each breath brings pain to my lungs. 
Each thought is crippled by the demons. 
And I am not me.