Mental Health
When “f” Eats, It Spells Feat
I can hardly breathe. The sadness in my throat is as tight as a rope that has been tied in a dozens knots. The muscles in my face attempt to move, but they are as a stagnant pond. I try to swallow but I just feel exhausted. Putting my feet on the floor, feels like an impossible feat. This is not how I was supposed to be as an adult at all. I was supposed to grow up and be confident, energetic and happy, not depressed.
By Rowan Finley 9 months ago in Poets
myselves . Content Warning.
myselves We tried to drink ourselves clean, counted shots like rosary beads, the glass sweating. We tried to smoke ourselves sober , ash collecting like dried petals beneath forgotten flowers. We tried to peel back our masks, And found scabs like punctuation marks interrupting every sentence the body tries to finish. I told myself: stop. I told myself: just one more. All the voices sounded like me. Our hair became the string we followed, trying to escape our labyrinth mind. We pulled, and we unraveled, and escape remained unknown. Call us user, abuser, monster, maniac; names stack like chairs in an empty room. We sit in all of them. None can bear our weight. We tried to divide ourselves evenly one voice for rage, one voice for hunger, one voice that only knows how to stay. But the body refuses fractions. It gathers us back together until there is only one mouth left and it is screaming.
By Mina Carey9 months ago in Poets
Sparkling Diamond, Mythical Scam. Content Warning.
"I grew up in a world where a girl’s heartbeat was supposed to sync to the sparkle of a diamond, but life has a way of burning the script right out of your hands. Somewhere between the heartbreaks and the mornings I woke up breathing on my own, I learned that a ring is not magic, it is marketing. This piece, 'Sparkling Diamond, Mythical Scam,' is my snort and my 'Bull' to the old fairytales. I didn't need a ring to save me; I needed myself."
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 9 months ago in Poets
