on nothing and everything

sometimes it all comes rushing back
like waves in the heat
i push it down once again
wash, rinse, and repeat

if i think i'm doing okay does that mean i'm ignoring the truth or does it mean that i'm getting better?
can you get better from something like this?
i have good moments. moments when i forget it all. i'm reborn.
i'm the spring blossom on the barren cherry tree.

sometimes i wish i could just run away
start over somewhere else
new name, new body, new life
do it over again
do it better
do it right

but what is right?
and what makes this wrong?
i've had a good life. i have no reason to complain or to be unhappy.
and the guilt sets in like the thick black date honey
seeping through the cracks, drowning my every thought.
i don't deserve the medicine. i don't deserve the care. i have it good.
i can't escape the stigma behind my illness.
i can hardly admit that i have an illness at all.

i take the pills no one wants to take and talk to the people no one wants to talk to
and i manage.
i try.
try to be patient as time heals my sobbing soul.
i sit on couches. i drink black coffee. i write angsty poems.
poems that make no sense
poems that aren't even poems.
just words - a mere crunch of syllables
an octagon of vowels
nonsense on a page.

i take my pills, let the darkness settle in for the night.
i'll try again tomorrow.
try for moments.
moments where i can forget and just be.