Mental illness is a motherfucker

Depression is a motherfucker
Waking up with no emotion
But a heavy weight bearing on you
Breathing slow, yet taking deep drags
You drag yourself out of bed and begin to clean
This is life, this is routine
This is something that you have to do
Paranoia is a motherfucker
Just when I begin to relax, just when things start to feel easy
It awakens
Something’s got to be wrong
Life just isn’t meant to be this perfect
Hyperalertness leads to over-analyzing
Or is it over-analyzing?
What if I’m right?
What if she glanced away because she doesn’t like me?
Self-fulfilled prophecies
Only further fuel the paranoia
Anxiety is a motherfucker
I feel it at times when I know why
And at times when I don’t
The uneasiness, the unsettling in my body
In the pit of my stomach, in the tingle in my hands
The steady rhythm of my tapping foot
The exhales when I’m seemingly unstressed
This is anxiety
Mental illness is a motherfucker
Symptoms set in, but become normalized in our society
So we think this is life, we don’t think to get help
We are misunderstood
Prescription pills is like playing with our personalities
Pulling strings on our emotions, but being blindfolded so we really don’t know which strings we’re pulling
The red or the blue pill Kymmie?
How can we have choices made without knowing the repercussions?


I love you
Yet I mourn you
How can something alive, be SO dead


Stuck in a spin cycle
My life whirs past me
Objects blurring together
Like what innocent children see when they play ring around the Rosie too fast
And I fell down
Fell down after you wrapped the bend of your arm
Snugly fit into the front of my throat
Like children falling down
You felt you had the power to whisk the air away from my chest
Like children falling down
You drug me to the ground
Gripping tight to my head
I fell down, in surrender
I don’t want to be a contributing factor to a violent relationship anymore
Lines blur, between love and hate
Like what children see when spinning in circles they play
Spinning, where was I again?
Oh that’s right, stuck in spin cycle
Except my cycle began as a child
Seeing my mom pick people who purposely put hands on her
I learned,
Subconsciously perpetuating the cycle
In each person I picked, I was hit.
I was hit, and after I while I learned to hit.
And then after that while, I was done with it
Leaving me here
On the ground
I did not fight back because I did not want to be an abuser again
I am
Done with it