They tell me it gets better.
They aren’t really lying, but
They’re lying.
It doesn’t get better.
Ever.

They tell me to tell someone.
My friends, perhaps.
But I have told my friends
Time and time again,
And either they don’t care
Or they can’t handle it.
Either way,
It doesn’t help.
Nothing helps.

They tell me to seek help.
How many therapists
And hospitals and groups and pills
Do I try before I recognize
The truth?
They can’t help.

Why do I keep doing this to myself?
How many nights will I go to sleep
And how many mornings will I awaken
Hoping that somehow today
I will find the strength to go on.
Today I will be able to help myself.
Today will be better.

Today is never better.

I had a therapist
Who focused on self-injury
And made her main goal
Physical damage reduction.
I had a therapist
Who focused on religion
And made his main goal
(Unobtainable) holiness.
I had a therapist
Who focused on relationships
And made his main goal
Awakening a desire to parent.
I had a therapist
Who focused on herself
And that was just fucking
Useless.
Now I have a new therapist
And who knows what he’ll focus on.
And it will work just as well as anything else
Which is to say,
It won’t.

I don’t want to cope with this.
I want it to be gone.
I’ve come to realize that
I may never get better.
That I’ll struggle with depression
And self-harm, and suicide,
For the rest of my life.
And that is simply unacceptable.
I refuse to live like this.
I don’t want to cope with depression,
I want depression to be fucking gone.
I don’t want to “manage” this,
And I refuse to live with it,
Which honestly only leaves
One option.

Only one.

Excuse me while I go
Find a gun
Or a tall building
Or a speeding semi
Or a train.
Anything will do.