Having depression is hard.
It's days when getting out of bed seems
impossible, but you do it anyways
so you don't spend the day alone, left
to your toxic thoughts.
It's constantly battling yourself in
your head. Add that with anxiety and
every word that you speak, or is spoken
to you gets processed over and over again
until none of it ever makes any sense.
It's ruining your relationships because if
you don't hear 'I love you' a few times
you don't believe they love you at all,
it's questioning your worth and wondering
when they will get sick of it, and leave,
because they aren't ready to ride
the emotional roller coaster of your life
and they are already motion sick.
It's not just sadness like everyone thinks,
it's doubt, indifference, confusion, uncertainty,
and yes sadness, but mostly it's not being able
to explain to anyone how you feel because you
have no ******* clue what's going in your
own mind.
It's telling people you are okay because it's the easiest
thing to say and most people don't ask twice. It's
praying that when its hiding that it never comes back
and when it comes back that it goes away soon.
It's pretending that you don't exist, that you never existed
It's hoping someone will love you even if you
can't love yourself, you may never love yourself,
but always being taught that no one will ever love you
if you don't, so you push people away until they never look back
and question yourself why you are always alone.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
They say that with time it gets easier.
But it never did.
We just get used to the pain.
Like we get used to the smells of our house,
and only recognize the smell after
we have gone away.
I have gotten used to missing you.
So much that one day I fear I will
not miss you at all.
You are the smell of my house,
and I am not home.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Yesterday you kissed me like you loved me.
Tonight you tell me that there was never anything there.
I smell you on my skin and it seems that no matter
how hard I scrub it wont go away.
My hands have started to bleed because I keep
scrubbing and I'm only losing skin.
I know tomorrow you will lay your head against my chest
and tell me you love me. I will believe because it sounds so real
But then I will come home and scrub again.
I guess what I'm trying to say is when you love someone
even if they don't love you back, they leave their mark,
and all you'll have left is scars of where you scrubbed too hard.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC