A Bottle of Pills

by Tiffany Wells about a month ago in slam poetry

A bunch of words of what I am thinking

A Bottle of Pills
Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

I will admit with shaky hands and tears in my eyes that I am not mentally sound, but I act like it. I know the words that will come out of the mouth of my retracted if I admit my not mentally healthy mind. I can hear the words they said to me when I was twelve and told them that I thought I was depressed. I do not know what depression is and therefore was not depressed. So I stayed quiet. Even when the bottle of pills on the medicine cabinet was calling for me and promising a release from the pain and suffering I was feeling. Yet I never reached for those pills because I knew that if I did reach for those pills the inconvenience that I already was would be even greater.

I bottled up the like the bottle of pills in the cabinet. I would not talk about my feelings because who would listen now. If I mentioned something my own retracted would have a comeback about how it is all their fault that I feel this way; that they are a horrible person and should kill theirself. So I hid away my pain and never mentioned it until one day it came bursting out.

The bottle of pills covered in dust finally opened up in an email I wrote to a friend who I never expected to check it. I wasn't worthwhile afterall. The friend wrote to my mom and told her what was going on. I dragged people into my mess. I should have kept my mouth shut. Yet. The pain my mind and chest felt seemed to diminish. It was still there but the words I wrote seemed to help. I finally had someone who would listen.

The bottle of pills in the medicine cabinet no longer calls for me. It hasn't for almost three years but still, my mind and chest remember those days and those hurtful moments. They remind me of the moments as I lay in bed and I begin to cry. The pain never goes away and stays like scares. Sure sticks and stones break my bones, but bones heal. In the movie Frozen they say the heart is hard to heal and it is true. The memory stays and lingers, but the pills no longer hold the power.

It gets better.

Please fight the voices for another day.

slam poetry
Tiffany Wells
Tiffany Wells
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Tiffany Wells

Hi! I am currently in college and majoring in writing! Writing is my passion and I hope to be able to teach it one day!

See all posts by Tiffany Wells