sorry i can’t be your manic pixie dream girl [poem]

i have 27 new texts
because i made 18 new friends last night
made plans with them all
told them i'd take them out to brunch
can't remember their names
was too drunk off the vodka i stole
switched my major three times
spent $65 on art supplies
figured i'd be the next van gogh
first, teach myself how to paint
i pick up new hobbies.
starting websites
knitting sweaters
learning the guitar
maxing out my credit cards
don't have time for it to get declined
because i have to shop online
- expensive shoes
- the camera i've always dreamt of
- 15 new shirts that might not fit
- jewelry that i won't wear
- some jeans since i need a new pair
(i don't)
paranoia that management will know
i'm not okay
coming into the leasing office to get packages
twice a day
hey man, you okay?
i mean i haven't slept in five fucking days...
it's 4 am
i'm wide awake
baked myself a three-layer cake
i'm scrubbing the floors
and painting my walls
tried to call my parents for fun
stopped myself so they don't call 911
my roommate thanks me in the morning
for cleaning the kitchen
vacuumming the apartment
doing all the things i couldn't do when i was too
low
i offer her a piece of my cake.
lovely how things turn out for me
spend six months in depression
suddenly i'm out
a little vacation away from hell
thanks mania!
you are treating me well
all fun and games
the manic brain
neurotransmitters gone haywire
yet only lasts so long
four days or four weeks
and it backfires
because eventually you
crash
you're doing something and in the / middle /
you feel nothing
become numb
start to crawl
back into the black hole you already know
guess it's that time of year again
rendezvous with depression
my good old friend
the dark side is always the worst of all
but the upsides of my up side
are worth the fall.

cyanide seed [poem]

i wake up at 3:27 pm
and down my meds with diet coke

10mg for when i feel numb
25mg once a day for anxiety
300mg tastes bitter and makes me gag

//

quit romanticizing my suffering
depression is not cute
i am not quirky for not having showered in two weeks
for having showered my floors with empty pizza boxes.

my
body
aches
because i haven't
left my bed in days
stains on my sheets
the color of cheeto crumbs
traces of mascara adorning my pillowcases
my thoughts scrambled like eggs

i trace my fingers along my pale
naked legs
bruised like peaches.