There are the days you're fine
  cheerful, even
  capable, able to do everything that needs doing
And then there are the days you're not.
  The days you're so
of fighting yourself.
 So tired of forcing yourself out of bed
 of reminding yourself you're loved
   even when they're not reminding you
 of fighting the urge to just
  let everything go
   and end this damn farce.
Tired of trying
  tired of the replacement
  tired of not smoking
  tired of caring
  tired of not finding refuge in pain.
Tired of telling yourself you're good enough,
   a good girl
  because no one else is.
Tired of the whole goddamn thing.
Utterly finished
  with the foolish hopes
you know will never happen
And exhausted by the voice
  in the back of your brain
That says "you could stop if you wanted.
   You could be fine
       if you wanted."
Because you know it's
   all a damn lie
but you can't help
  feeling that the damn voice
  is right.

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