Depression is pretty.
Seeing the number on the scale drop for the first time was the first time I’d seen you happy.
Going to the bathroom and coming back with a nose bleed, magical.
The circles on your skin aren’t from cigarettes, no. Those are the kisses from angels that only want the best for you.
Arranging all of your face masks and acne creams from smallest to largest, that’s what the ideal woman does.
Taking more pills than your hand can hold is alluring.
Not being able to go to someone’s house without cleaning it for them, that’s what makes you so sexy.
The look in your eyes when you slide the blade across your arm, that’s what I live for.
Remember that one time we went shopping, and you only brought rope? I swear, I’d never seen anything
…show more content…
There’s never going to be a moment when I’m not breathing on your neck, watching you surrender to me.
I will always be there.
Your therapist might tell you that you need to want to not be depressed, but fuck that.
I’ll make your best days become the days in which you’re standing on a stool, tears racing down your face, note in hand, ready to take a step forward into happiness.
You know I’ll be there when you make the decision to wear short sleeves, but I’ll make people look at them. Hell, I’ll shove your arm in their face, just so they know I own you.
Don’t doubt me, because if you do, I’ll hurt you even more.
You see, I have this plan, works every time.
I’ll let you have a good week or so, but when you realize something changed, that maybe I’m not there anymore, but I’ll sprint to my seat.
The seat I sat in, watching you slice your skin in two, making you throw up an amazing meal, fixing the towels in a restaurant's bathroom because “the back is showing too much”.
It’s only when you have the pill bottle in your hand, waiting for all thirty nine to kick in; weights in your pockets, scared to step on the scale; rape kit done, shocked that it was your childhood best friend, that I’ll be