Bad Day, Good Tea.

Open Reddit, sip my tea. Fantasy meets reality as I'm faced with a dashboard that mirrors me. Dark thoughts, dark minds, dark poetry in motion from a flood of emotions giving me the notion this whole bloody website needs a pill or a potion. Looking at my reflection acting as if I ever had the intention of kicking the stool or tying myself to the floor of the pool. Gun, pesticide, drugs, cliff edge. Reality hits me like dulled down sledge. I'm not going to cry over something so petty as being unable to die.

There are days when I wish I had done it. There are days it feels like every decision is punished, and I never get gratification others feel, whenever they’re around the things they say are real. A walk in the woods has never cleared my head, only left me reeling in reasons I should be dead!

It doesn’t matter if you think I’m fine, I’m lonely and selfish and dying inside! I’m not speaking at E3 or any of the like, this won’t change anyone’s lives, but if one person here needed to hear me, then I feel justified in making you fear for me.

I’m unstable, unsteady, unfounded, untouched, and ungrounded, I’m floating away on your precious spring breeze. My final goodbye is the rustle of leaves. I’m not going to cry, I just don’t want to die. So here we go, just pray I don’t stumble as out of my mouth hurtful truth tumbles into a jumble and I start to crumble if you look too closely at my anatomy 'cause I’m a train wreck of wild complaints as if the world were ever a perfect place. I’m looking for grace in a dark and empty loving face of stained glass promises that never keep pace in the life I’m trying to save!

I could snap without warning and set this whole place burning but I don’t need you to fear me, just listen and hear me. For once in my life I have your undivided attention, and all I had to do was callously mention death and depression in quick succession. I guess that made connection. Now you hear me, now you’re listening, now you’re expecting to learn something from me. It didn’t matter til I made it a message, you never heard it until this very moment where the momentum ripped your mind out of its comfortable place and brought you here face to face with the pain that you missed; still keeping pace? This isn’t about me, it’s about the kid in the back of the room acting cool and playing the fools like he’s done all his life because that’s what the world taught him was right. This was written for the girl sitting somewhere among you whose long sleeves don’t cover the damage that words leave.

This is to the young man who thought it was right to sit there quietly trying to type away the pain in lies he told himself to justify the things he said for future generations because the world today would never understand him. But this is not for me.

The writing was enough, it’s not my turn to heal, it’s theirs’. So for the strong who’s lost their place, the weak who never felt that grace, the one who died again last night and is trying to smile like it’s alright, the one who stood before the masses and lost their faith in all but the darkest loneliest face, the depressed and the desperate and the wandering souls, the oldest mind in the youngest clothes, the stories I’ll never read, from the minds I’ll never meet, this is for you, dear beautiful strangers.

Say anything if you're alive! Say something beautiful because you survive. Neither of us have taken that dive. That's something I'll drink to if you'll have have shot too. At least it'll give us something to do.

To the one that heard me, ‘cause one of you’s listening, all that I ask is that you don’t miss this.

There's room for one more at this table for two, and as bad as gets it'll just have to do. It wouldn't be the same without me or you. I hope you take up the invitation and visit sometimes with your pain or addictions. It's merely the human condition.

Would you like some tea?

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