My Best Friend Has A Tumblr Account Poem by Sylvia Gong

My best friend's Tumblr account is kind of not okay.
Her username is "skxlls_flxwxrs"
Except all of the vowels are replaced with "x"s
So it's technically pronounced "skkks" underscore "flkkkwkksrrs"
And that's also not okay.

Her account is full of quotes
Not the gooey, inspirational ones, but the cool ones
Like "suicidal people… are just angels who want to go home"
And "I didn't eat for three days so I could be lovely."

Kinda dark, I know
But she calls it an "aesthetic"
As if reading dark poetry makes people beautiful
She wears darker clothing
Talks more softly
Tells me that girls have to be a little mysterious if they want to be noticed

I don't want to be noticed, I tell her
And she says "of course you do"
Why else do you dress in all black and sleep all the time and never laugh like you used to?

She follows this page called the 27 Club
It's about this group of artists who died at age 27, typically from drug overdose or suicide
Kurt Cobain's on there
So's Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin
I ask her why she cares about a bunch of dead people
Dead, because they hurt themselves
Dead, not flowers-on-a-gravestone haunting-song-lyrics artistic-pill-spill dead but dead dead
As in ugly-wasteland hospital-stays hating-yourself irreversible
Dead

She laughs
And tells me I might be able to write some good quotes for "skkks" underscore "flkkkwkksrrs"

I don't tell her her Tumblr account is a lie.
There is nothing "aesthetic" about waking up in the morning to a dark world, and having your mom come into your room and ask why all of the lights are on.
There is nothing "aesthetic" about forcing your throat to form words and your teeth to flash smiles because you're trying to play yourself in a movie where you never feel like yourself.
There is nothing "aesthetic" about thinking you're completely and utterly worthless.

I don't tell her I have depression.

She'd just say I'm trying to be beautiful.