step brothers

“we aren’t even blood related but i thought maybe you could look past that and see my heart. 
i just wanted you to see my pain, see all the darkness.
just for one minute, for one hour, for one day.
but then you say things like “i don’t have time for that right now” “this is more important we’ll talk later” “i’m not in the mood, seriously”
I WANT YOU TO FEEL THE BLACKNESS THAT I DO! I WANT YOU TO GO TO BED AND NOT BE ABLE TO SLEEP. I WANT YOU TO KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO BE ME. HOW HARD IT IS TO LIVE WITH 10 MG’S OF LEXAPRO HIGH’S SAVING YOUR LIFE BECAUSE EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY YOU WANT TO GO TO SLEEP. GO TO SLEEP AND NOT WAKE UP.
let’s get something clear, i am trying to stay alive.
i attempt to write to stay alive and tell stories no one would else would listen to otherwise.
my wrists are bruised. my knuckles are swollen.
you don’t even know. you look past me.
i guess i am small, pretty easy to miss.
but that’s just it,
sometimes you just need those conversations.
those “just listen to me and i’ll tell you” conversations
those “i know you don’t have any of the answers but here’s my question” conversations
those “please let me tell you what i’m thinking” conversations.
i cannot function on the easiest of days.
i try to cope with it in destructive ways
you say you know you’ve heard it all before.
YOU KNOW NOTHING AT ALL ABOUT LIVING IN THIS HELL
I CAN’T BREATHE AT NIGHT, I SCREAM INSIDE MY PILLOW FROM BAD DREAMS AT NIGHT 
I DON’T WANT TO BE ALIVE.
I TAKE HOT SHOWERS TO BURN AWAY LAYERS OF SIN
I HAVE BLOOD TRAPPED BENEATH MY SKIN
BRUISING MY WRISTS
I AM FILLED WITH STALE CIGAR SMOKE AND CHEAP ANTIDEPRESSANTS
and no one even takes the time to look in my eyes.
don’t you see?
i just want you to look at me.”
 

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