for making you want to vomit

when my hands are cold from j-walking at 3am in the morning
(when sometimes it really feels like it's the last straw)

and there's this image that won't get out of my head
and it's the glass table in my kitchen
and it's me, and it's

i want my prozacs in a line and i want to take 14 of them
and leave the rest there
and die with my face pressed against the glass
as if i never actually got to the rest

and maybe it's because not only am i not good enough to be what i want to be
but i'm also not good enough to be what i thought i would be stuck being

"us against the world"

and maybe it's stupid because all i wanted was a fucking sweater
but maybe it's stupid because i can't do the things that every other normal fucking human being can do
all i know is that it's stupid

and i'm sorry
i am so sorry

that a pinky swear is not good enough for you
because that's all i have to offer

and frankly, i am tired of contracts
because none of them are ever binding