Her Name Is Wendy

Told my mom I was bipolar this year, she already saw it coming.
Told my mom I’m taking medicine for the depression and anxiety, she hugged me even tighter.
Told my mom about September 27th, she threatened to call the cops.
Told my mom about the aftermath, she cried in my arms.
Told my mom about two weeks ago, she said she’d never leave my side again.
Told my mom about the smoking, she said if it helps than it’s what I need to do, but don’t make a habit of it.
Told my mom about the poetry, she said if it’s what you love to do then go on.
Told my mom I don’t know I’ll make it to December, but I’m trying my best to get back on my feet. She said there’s always a time and place for these things, take it slow.
Told my mom I’m graduating. She kissed my forehead and said no other 21 year old could’ve done it like I did.
Told my mom I wanted to die two days ago. She called and gave me every reason to stay here with her at home.

Everyday I gain a little more strength to put myself back together because of her. Thank You, Mom. Who knew I’d get this bad?