I woke up that morning, same time as before, 6:30 on my phone, 15 minutes more. I lay in bed, snug and tight, Hoping to delay the morning light. All was peaceful, all was calm, but then my foot burned; it scratched on the usually soft surface of my worn bedding. A blister. Oh well, easy fix. I got dressed and went downstairs. Plasters, where are the plasters? But instead, I find pills. Pills. Pills, pills. I woke up the same way as always, but my perspective shifted. If I take a couple, will it all stop for a short while? So I took a lot and took some more. That's why, at school, I was zoned out out on the floor, heart beating like a drum, friends wondering what I'd done. I make it to... wait, what's going on? There's a paste on my lips, a light in my eyes. I'm in an office of some kind; it's familiar but to hard to reach. In my hand, a cup, and next to me, people trying to preach the fact that I need to drink. Pills, what had I done? Pills, how many did I take? Pills, what have I said? Pills, my heart starts to ache. I'm in a hospital ward, with a drip in my arm, A pounding in my head, and wishing I never got out of that bed because if I didn't, I wouldn't feel the need to try harder next time, to fully succeed. What am I doing to myself? Is it me or the pills? I'll be better next time. Pills. Just let me leave. Pills. Don't make me stay here, please. Pills