Poetry of Stephanie Bennett Henry, Uncategorized

Giving Up

Don’t tell me you know

about giving up

until getting out of bed

feels like a battle

you didn’t get to suit up for.

Don’t say you know

about giving up

until you stop giving a shit

whether you wash your hair or not

and it doesn’t bother you to say that.

Don’t pretend you have a clue

until you know right from wrong

and choose wrong just for

the fuck of it, just because

that moment is all that matters

and you’re stuck in it

like consequences didn’t exist.

When you stop talking

to everyone who ever mattered

because you just don’t have

anything worth saying anymore.

When you remember yourself

before you stopped living

and you roll your eyes

like even then you didn’t matter.

When your whole world fell

a long time ago,

nothing phases you now.

You sit there dazed over

at the disasters that don’t stop

and you don’t even care anymore

because you did once

a long time ago

and it didn’t change the weight

that fell on your shoulders, no.

It didn’t change how heavy

the world feels

and now you don’t even look

into that mirror

or god forbid anyone’s eyes.

It feels too ugly.

It hurts too much.

It’s like the truth

muffled into a silent scream

but the echo stopped

when you did.

It all stopped when you did.

No one ever said

keep going…

and when you said it,

You didn’t believe yourself,

because when’s the last time

you came through for yourself?

So you sit there

all by yourself

and you think you belong there.

You think you earned it.

It’s lonely.

But you deserve it, right?

The world keeps spinning

whether you believe in yourself or not.

It’s not going to stop for you.

You won’t even stop for you.

Why should anyone else?

-Stephanie Bennett-Henry


10 thoughts on “Giving Up”

  1. All of these words, this post as a whole, is the name for what/who/how I am right now. People ask “how are you?” or “what are you feeling?” or even “what’s up?” and I simply don’t answer because there isn’t an answer. Simple, concise words don’t exist in this language to express or explain any of what’s sitting inside my head and heart. But this, what you wrote here, this is the label, this is the name of it, this is the feeling that doesn’t have a spot on the “feelings chart”. Maybe next time someone asks, which unfortunately isn’t that often anymore given that I never answer, I’ll just hand them a link to this post.

    Thanks for speaking my language.

    Liked by 1 person

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