may:
the sweet goth girl you never took seriously hangs herself behind the bleachers with a neck tie. once, she wrapped her fingers around your arm like ivy and stared at the thick purple scars there, evidence of how no one heals properly. you shook her off like a hungry dog.

june:
you stay in your bed. your mother worries.

august:
you kiss your best friend with tongue. you push yourself into her like wet cement. you're sorry afterwards, you're always sorry. while you sleep she watches your hands clench and unclench.

october:
you spend seven days in a psych ward memorizing the many faces of sadness. your roommate's hair is falling out in chunks. another wakes the entire hall with her keening. when the insurance runs out, you are sent home. outside, the snow starts. it doesn't stop.

december:
you forget what sleep feels like. there are only nails and skin in the dark.

january:
"it's not your fault. you couldn't have seen it coming."

febuary:
it feels like it's too late to save anything.