Dear Teen Me
Dear Teen Me ~
You, with the bleu Sharpie pen.
Those ripped leggings are hugging your bones like another layer of skin. Werent you maintaining your weight? Oh, thats right. I remember now. You were spending some more time in that day hospital program. Philhaven. The depression had come back in a rush. It was overwhelming; a tide of uncertainty and anxiety, complete with a bow laced with self-loathing. It was wrapped around you like gauze and medical tape, all melted together as one hard cast. All that weight, Love, and you crashed. You fell under a suffocating blanket of hatred and were constantly shrouded by ribbons of past mistakes.
/Failure, failure, failure/
Those thoughts followed you around like a black dog with a limp, slow at times, but always there. Your friends turned their backs on you after that night. We decided that they werent friends, remember? But then there was something else to think about. Who /were/ your friends, then? The ones you had