It was New Years Eve
I messaged you
Saying my depression was rearing its ugly head once more
And then you messaged me
You said you were sad too
Your family was telling you to move out again
Saying you're a worthless 13-year-old
That you're nothing
And no help
I told you that I wanted to take you away from there
And you said that you'd like that
And we continued talking about our feelings
How we felt
How you are wanted
Even if you don't believe it
You wished you could restart
Reset your life, you said
Do everything over again
I tried consoling you
But you kept contradicting me
Said that you didn't want to hurt anyone
You said you felt empty
I said that I feel the same
You said you felt nothing
I suppose I should have understood then
You said you felt nothing
I should have realized that included me too
You wanted to ask me something
I said go ahead
You said it would hurt me
Hurt
Me
Huh
It should have been obvious
I said I didn't care
I said if it meant you feeling better
You should hurt me
You started backing out
I kept telling you to ask me
I kept pushing you
You first asked if my feelings were different towards you
I said of course
My feelings only grew stronger
You told me
That that was a problem
I didn't understand
You told me you felt different
I said I'd help you
You told me that I wouldn't understand
I said I'd try, learn, support you
You became unsure
Said it was destroying you
But it would hurt me
You didn't want to hurt me
But I kept pushing
I said that I had been hurt many times
That I'd get over it quickly
I was so wrong
You said it would take me a really long time
Years, even
You were so right
You asked me to guess
I wasn't correct
You kept saying it would hurt me
That you didn't want to
You didn't want to hurt me
But I begged you
Pleaded
Telling you to hurt me, demanding it
You said you didn't want to
I gave in
Saying that I wouldn't push you anymore
You said that you didn't know
I tried making a joke
Because that's what I do
And you finally told me the thing
You said you just wanted to be friends
That you needed to be alone for a while
I remember tears
I remember shaking hands typing calm words
Trying to be as composed as possible
Said okay
I kept my word
Supported this decision
I guess you bought my act
I told our friends
They were all calm
Said okay
Moved on
So did you
But I didn't
Haven't
Can't
You were right
I am hurting
But I am not going to say anything
I remember crying
Going downstairs to eat
Seeing my aunt with her boyfriend
Jealousy
Putting on a smile
Laughing when I was supposed to
Watching the New Years kisses
Messaging my cousin
Facetiming for a bit
Messaging my mom
Talking to my sister
Getting in bed
Not sleeping
Opting for crying instead
Spending the rest of the break losing sleep
Crying
Crying some more
Seeing you on my birthday to see a movie
As friends
Popcorn, hands meeting
As friends
Walking you to your front door afterwards
Awkwardly hugging
Leaving not even pretending to smile
Pity from my mom
Until she grew tired of it
Started telling me to be happier
So I keep pretending
Even now
Although I talked about it a bit with our friends
I remember the feeling I get when someone mentions you
A sort of longing
A tugging in my gut, reaching for something
Reaching for you
Not getting you
Watching you from across the cafeteria
Wanting to force you back into my life
But never being able to
I remember a dream I had
I was on a date
And you were playing the piano at the back of the restaraunt
And you were jealous
And I was happy
Because finally
After all these months you finally show signs of caring
But it was just a dream
And I just want you even more
But I'll never have you
And it's my fault
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
There's a constant pressure
In my chest
Pulling, Aching, Twisting
At my very own gut
At the very cost of my joy
My life, my smile, my curiosity
Is what led me to this point
Of too little too much
Too little too much
Constantly repeating
Over and over and over and over and...over
Repetitive motions of life
Life stolen with the motions
Going through the motions
Wake up
School
Go home
Wake up
School
Go home
Wake up School
Go home
Wake up School Go home
Wake Up School Go Home
WakeUpSchoolGoHome
WAKEUPSCHOOLGOHOME
WAKEUPSCHOOLGOHOME
WAKEUPSCHOOLGOHOME
WAKEUPSCHOOLGOHOME
...
Inbetween the motions
Are lost emotions
From being lost in the motions
Never allowing rest
Rest from the constant nagging
Shaming
Teasing
...heartbreak
never disappears
only builds
buildings of nothing
that make up everything
repetitively everything
constantly nothing
too little
and too much
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
Knock knock
Who's there
Anxiety
Anxiety who
Anxiety that never left because it's always there no matter what
When you hear the word anxiety you think one of three things
1. Panic attacks
2. Nervous ticks, for example: nail biting, chewing on your shirt, st-st-stuttering, stumbling over, I mean, over words that are yours, I mean stumbling over your words, blushing, etc. etc. etc.
Or 3. Being nervous
For those who think about the first option:
Panic attacks are included. So are mental breakdowns, hour long crying sessions, difficulty to breathe, and hearing your heartbeat every day and night 24/7.
For those who think about the second option:
Nervous ticks are always a part of it, no matter how small they are or how noticeable it is. And yes, we are trying to stop. But saying we need to stop won't help anything because we already know. Stop wasting your breath on facts we already know.
For people who think about the third option:
Yes and no. It is being nervous and yet, it's so much more.
It's saying I'm sorry when you don't need to but you feel like you should because you think you did something wrong.
It's scratching at spots that aren't itchy but you feel your insecurities crawling over your body like fire ants and it hurts so you scratch.
It's making problems out of thin air like a magician pulls a rabbit out of an empty hat. Except there's nothing magical about it. It's terrifying and it shapes the way you think and act and feel and walk and talk and breathe and are.
It's feeling like your friends aren't your friends because you think they talk bad about you behind your back like spies among a common enemy and the common enemy is you.
You don't like being the common enemy so you ask them if you're annoying and you ask them if you're a bad person and you ask them if you did something wrong and you say you're sorry in a blizzard of words and scrambled up sentences.
For example,
When I was in 5th grade I felt my best friends drifting away and I didn't know what to do because I'm scared of being alone. As the year went on, I had this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that they were talking about me behind my back and didn't like me at all. At the end of the year, I finally gathered enough courage to ask if they were. My friend was offended and said no. All summer it bugged me. It was like another stone added to my wall of insecurities built around me in the shape of the person I wanted to be. After summer, I frantically apologized and they looked at me like I was crazy. I still feel like a monster.
Anxiety is also feeling like a monster is under your bed. But when you check it's in your closet. Then, it's behind you. Then, it's beside you. And finally you realize, it's inside you. And in a horrifying second you realize that you can't run from it because how do you run away from your mind?
I am afraid of my mom, my dad, my siblings, my friends, my teachers, my girlfriend, my principal, my vice-principle, and everyone else in my life. That includes the stranger I walk by on the sidewalk on my way to my house.
I am afraid of letting them down. I am afraid of them hating me. I am afraid of losing them. I am afraid of them pitying me. I am afraid of needing their help. I am afraid of asking for help. I am afraid of them seeing me as weak. I am afraid of them sending me to get get help. I am afraid of them realizing that I am a monster.
I am a monster.
I feel like a monster.
That's anxiety.
Anxiety is feeling like a monster in human skin, trying to play out the part of a normal human being and failing miserably and awkwardly.
That's anxiety.
At least it is for me.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 5:07 AM UTC
To the girl who says, "This is feels like torture," as she does a few chores around her house to help her parents out
Or the boy who says, "Your cute when you blush," to a girl who's hands are shaking and her knees are buckling
That isn't torture and she's basically having a mental breakdown and all you can pick up on is her ****** features
Torture isn't helping out
Panic attacks aren't cute
Torture is when your depression and your anxiety manage to fight and work together at the same time
Torture is when you are forced to go somewhere other than your room by your mom who is constantly telling others that the reason you don't want to leave home is because of the wifi when really it's because the voices in your head are at war
And yet you still smile and laugh and nod and agree to the accusations she's making about your actions
My anxiety makes me that frightened girl in the beginning of this poem I'm starting to regret making because who would ever listen to me and my feelings
My knees buckle and my hands shake
I rub my palms together in an effort to wipe the sweat away
I try to avoid eye contact because I don't want you to see my emotions and give me pity
I don't want pity
I want you to understand
I want you to listen
Torture is thinking that your friends are talking bad about you behind your back because they hate you because how can someone care about me when I don't care about myself
Torture is wanting to **** yourself but realizing that your too scared to end your suffering because you think that you deserve the pain but you still want the pain to go away so you try self-harm but you can't press down hard enough because you are weak
You are weak from all the fighting and the screaming and the suffering in your mind alone
You are tired from the things people say.
For example,
"You need to calm down." Or
"There's nothing wrong with your life." Or
"Take a chill pill." Or
"Your just doing it for attention." Or
"Stop faking it." Or
"I know how it feels. I was in the same pit you're in for two days a while back."
My answers to those are: I can't calm down. My mind makes me unable to. Every day feels like I'm trapped in a small iron birdcage. Don't tell me to calm down. I know there's nothing wrong. But my mind makes problems like a textbook and I don't know how to solve it because it's math class and we're trying to solve riddles and the teacher is teaching a song and the students are doing sit-ups. There are names for the pills I'm supposed to take. They're called anti-depressants. But I can't build up enough courage to go up to my mom and ask for her to get me some because then I'll have to describe what I'm feeling to a professional I don't know to get my chill pills and I lie to them after a week and they say I don't need the chill pills because I'm fine. I thought they were a professional. Shouldn't they recognize the signs of when someone is lying about feeling happy? And why do you think I do this for attention? I don't want to feel this way. It's not like puffy bloodshot eyes are attractive. I don't want a pity date either. And for your information, if I wanted to fake something it would be a smile or a laugh or generally happy feelings. Oh wait, I already do that and I do it because of people like you. And no, you don't understand. Your two days is nothing to my two years.
Of course, I only say this in my head.
In reality, I stay silent. I let them have their way.
I do this because my anxiety tells me they won't care and that I shouldn't stand up for my depression.
That's torture.
Because at the end of the day, when I'm lying in bed at 2:30 am, finally feeling my eyes droop down to sleep, my anxiety and my depression stop their war to hold hands and say, "You know, we did a really good job messing up her day. Let's do it again tomorrow."
And so the war starts again after only 3 hours of rest.
That is torture.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:01 AM UTC
I was in fourth grade
When a train hit me
It tore me apart
It left pieces of me behind
My weaknesses were visible
My bruises were poked at
My cuts were drenched in alcohol
It hit me into the deep end of a pool
The chlorine stung my eyes
Chains wrapped around my body
They dragged me to the bottom
I tried to get rid of them
I tried to take them off
I tried to pull myself up
But after a while I gave up
I watched the people around me
They were free
They were in the water
But they were free
They didn't bear the curse of chains
They didn't get dragged down
They didn't help me up
Instead they stared
They stared and stared and stared and stared and stared and stared
Eventually they started pointing
They started laughing
They started to tell me that my pain was fake
They told me that I was doing this for attention
They told me that I had everything
They told me that I had no reason to feel the way I did
I tried to fight back
I tried to tell them that they were wrong
I tried to explain
I tried and I tried and I tried and I tried and I tried
But they didn't listen
They turned the tables
They said I was wrong
They said there's nothing wrong
They said there's nothing to be sad about
They never helped
They never listened
They never gave me a reason to feel happy
They just bathed in their freedom
They soaked in the glory of their no chains no train life
Now I sit at the bottom
I bath in my captivity
I soak in my all chains yes train life
I am scared
I am nervous
I am angry
I am upset
I am overwhelmed
I am full
I am tired
I am sick
I am nauseous
I am dizzy
I am hurting
Yet all I can say is I am fine
When in reality
I
Am
Depressed
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
Why?
Why do I fell the need to tell people about how depressed I am?
Why do I even need to tell them? Shouldn't they notice?
If they care so much, why do I need to point out how depressed I am for them to notice?
I know it gets irritating for them. I understand because I get irritated at it too.
I don't want to.
I don't want to feel the need to point out simple things that could be noticed in a single observation.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
They ask me
"Why"
I'll just sit there, silently staring
There is no answer to this question
When it arrives
It arrives silently
You don't realize what's happening
Not until it's too late
It drags you deeper and deeper
Until it's hard to see the light
No one can help you
Not unless you put up a fight
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
What is life?
Why do we live?
I'll give you the answer
But I give you a warning
It may be depressing
It may be sad
But hey
You asked
First, You're born
Next, you go to school
Then, you go to work
And follow
Society's rule
Lastly, Death comes knocking
At your door
He takes your soul
And leaves your body
Lying on the floor
It may be depressing
It may be sad
But hey
You asked
I gave you an answer
So go
Run along
And meet life's standards
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC