Internalized

When I was 16, 17, 18, 19, I tried.

I tried to read a book, even a chapter but instead of wrapping my head around the words, my head got so twisted and knotted that my eyes became the snow on the TV.

I tried to make the grades I had before but writing a paper on how Frost uses literary devices to convey depression in “Acquainted with the Night” means that my paper has to be so good that it will rock the literary world for decades and if I’m not even good enough to write an outline, then how will I write this paper?

I tried to put less pressure on myself but I was taught that diamonds formed under pressure and that I was a pleasure to have in class and that I was strong and that I was dedicated and that I was inspiring. I was taught that all that I was was all that I accomplished. I tried to kill myself. I had the pills all counted out. How typical of me to count out the 196 pills of Tylenol, but I never looked up to see if it would work. It didn’t matter. I was too depressed to get up to get the water.