I stood there at 1am sitting in the cold, alone. I was on the balcony, holding my remedy as usual then sent her a text and told her that it was happening, again. I was at my low, again. She asked me, ‘Why do you do this to yourself?’ No audible answer was given. ‘Are you still there?’ she asked. I remained quiet. ‘You know this smoking and drinking will kill you someday?’ and then I finally spoke.

‘What if I’m dead already? Yes you see a body but does this body really have a soul? I wake up everyday feeling down, wear the same mask I hang on my bathroom rail every single day when I go and meet people. They think I’m happy but beneath that smile I show to them I’m really broken. What if I told you that the only time I feel alive is right now when I’m on the balcony, smoking and feeling relaxed? You stopped me last time when I wanted to end it all telling me how there was so much to look forward to but all I see everyday is another reason to give up. It’s not a bad life they keep saying, just a bad day. What if everyday is a bad day then does that turn into a bad life? I know I look like the happiest person but am I really happy? Is this smile you fell in love with a poker face or is it mine? Everyday I feel like I’m dragging my body through it all just trying to make it to my bed where I can sleep and stop thinking for a second. Have you ever thought about everything at the same time? Literally everything? Never? I thought so. So next time you tell me about how much drinking and smoking might kill me, think about how maybe I’m trying to commit suicide with this bottle and light without really showing anyone.’ 

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