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Sometimes I just feel like
I’m just a skeleton
Of what could've been.
I am all of my maybes and what ifs,
My “would’ve”’s and “should’ve”’s,
My ambivalence,
My hesitancy,
My regrets.
I am flesh stretched across bone
And sometimes it feels like that’s all I am.
Hollow. Unfeeling.
A chest full of nothing.
Nothing can hurt me if I can’t feel, right?
Get them before they get you.
Set ablaze everything you love
so you don’t have to lose it.
Lose control by being in control
Of your own destruction.
Maybe the fire doesn’t burn as intensely
If you’re the one who
Lit the match.
Growing Up/Enough is Enough
I’m 20
And I still sleep with my mom
And drink from juice boxes.
I still give myself gold stars
For brushing my teeth
And taking showers.
I still eat too much candy
And get a stomach ache
Because I still haven’t learned
When enough is enough
When will I sleep in my own bed
And do my own laundry?
Sometimes depression
Makes me feel like
I won’t ever be a grown up.
Everyone around me
Is doing fine.
No gold stars,
Clean laundry,
Hell,
Maybe they
Even floss.
About the Author: Cheyenne Hollowell is currently a student at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. She is 20 years old and grew up in the small town of Dothan, Alabama. Her poems surround the issues of becoming an adult while dealing with mental health disorders, including depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. She was recently voluntarily admitted to UAB's Center for Psychiatric Medicine, which serves as inspiration for "Growing Up/Enough is Enough". Cheyenne hopes to continue to use writing as a way to face the stigma towards mental health and normalize speaking up about these struggles.
