It's My Mental
Six lines about the gap between how much we're hurting and how much anyone can see of it.
The hardest version of any low is the one nobody around you can see. This poem is for that version.
It’s my mental!
I wonder even if they know
How much I hurt
Even though I’m always
Killin’ like Colonel Kurtz
It’s my mental!
Some of us deliver, perform, ship, win — while the inside is collapsing. That gap between visible-you and actual-you is its own loneliness. The poem isn’t a fix. It’s just a flare gun: I’m here. It’s harder than it looks.
— JTC