this isn't suicide, this is tuesday.

killing yourself alone isn’t suicide.

sometimes it’s just not taking your ibuprofen when your head’s ringing like a broken temple bell.

sometimes it's not checking the weather because the rain doesn’t matter to you and neither do yourself.

it’s replying “lmaooo I'm dead”
and then staring at the wall
for 3 hours straight, having quite a wish you were.

it’s being so tired you forget your body needs you.
being so numb that pain feels like a break from the silence.

people think it’s overdramatic.
they think you need to be saved.
to be replenished.
to "appear alive".

but honestly?
you’re not even asking for that.

you just want the day to end without having to explain why it felt like drowning in a sea of plain sight.

this isn’t a breakdown.

this is maintenance.
this is functioning.
this is survival dressed up as laziness.

this is fucking tuesday, mate.

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