Happiness
What is it really?
It's you,
It's me,
It's acting silly.

Happiness
Isn't forced or bought,
It's what you love,
It's where you go,
It's what you've got.

Happiness
Is a soldier come home,
A wife who's with child,
A dream come true,
A trip to Rome.

Happiness
Is a person's smile,
A heart unbroken,
Music that speaks to you,
Artistic style.

Happiness
For me,
Is my girlfriend's smile,
And the way she holds my hand.
It's the feelings I get when she looks at me.

Happiness
Is looking towards the sky,
Smiling at my future,
Being at peace with my past,
And not stopping to ask myself why.

Happiness*
Is living life the way I want,
And smiling in the dark.
Laughing at the meaner people,
'Cause they can't torture me with daunt.

Everyone talks about depression as if they know it.  
But what they don’t know
is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,
it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of
“Oh, look how beautiful the red is”
Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end,
salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles,
staring at your ceiling
tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest
because death is a reward,
an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.
Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars,
cutting on ankles,
not wrists
because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble
but you so desperately need to be seen,
and never are.
Depression is writing the word “alone”
and seeing the word
“home”,
accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it.
Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people,
and loving the broken things,
hoping to tie them together,
thinking maybe things will get better,
but knowing that’s just wishful thinking.
Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting
through the too-thin walls of your door
when she thinks you can’t hear,
and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry,
as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it.
Depression is shutting yourself up in your room
and hearing your family laughing downstairs
because you feel like you can’t be a part of them
and learning at a young age to love family always
but that family isn’t always love
Depression is wanting to take
love and your heart
and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves,
to throw them away
Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet,
is when you haven’t broken life in,
is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same,
like the front covers of magazines
with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t.
Depression is wishing you could package your smiles
into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them
because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of
“I’m fine.”
Depression is having to view your past
as if it wasn’t yours.
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside
of a wooden doorway
and when you close the door out of fear
it keeps pounding,
possessive,
******,
and when you open the door out of anger you shout,
“I’M SCARED”
to thin air
but your voice comes out as a whisper.

I have violent thoughts

I hate and hold grudges on you all
For not acknowledging me

And talking to me

Like my talk is cheap

But I can't let you all take control of me

I can only push myself to the brink

I can only break myself under pressure

You are just my psychological limitation

You are my negative motivation

But not why I positively persevere

I will not let you occupy a vacancy in my mind without paying an outrageous lease

I don't want to snap

Because control is the only thing i have this far

And if I do

I will give whoever is there everything

Every sarcastic remark thrown at me

Every unfair criticism

Every smug remark

Everything I didn't want to hear

And everything they didn't deserve

Beat me ****** with sticks and stones

Break every bone

Leave me conscious enough to tell me it's my fault

Then slander what I have left as a human being

What's a word without power

What's an idea without a motive

Watch the steps you tread

The steep path can lead you to what he or she said

While the truth discriminates

And the reality that we all search for doesn't exist

Freedom and unity can't be forced onto the same plane

Those with the power to send their malicious intent

You sully my docile side

So when tears form my rage and release my wrath on a stubborn mule of a man

By nature

I didn't really want to do it

Silently sobbing in the corner shackle as I have given the confession to the act I committed

Emotional distraught

Being taught

To never point the finger

Logically perplexed

Watching

These acts being committed

It angers me

So blame me

The way your smile looks like
a few rough times came in and knocked out your teeth
but the child stayed,
your laugh and it's booming base
like I'm at a metal concert being thrashed around by hundreds of people.
The way your eyes look like someone said something mean to you but you told them to *******,
the way your skins feel against my skin soft like satin with an underlay of warmth.
How you didn't talk to me all week and I'm not mad
in fact all I did was think of you
and your smile, your laugh, your voice and your body against mine.
Finally,
the way your hug makes me realize how infuriatingly fragile I am and your arms are like the paste that holds me together.

I'm falling and I'm scared.

***! You are SO pretty! It's too bad you're a massive ***** and step on other people to get yourself to the top not caring how horrible you make everyone feel.

I will not fall to the ever growing expectation, the preconceived ideas of the people and this nation. I will not be compared to a unrealistic interpretation of a silicon barbie doll, with her face plastered in makeup. We are all human, all perfectly unique. So just think about this, every time you speak, for we shouldn't be judged by our looks and appearance but from our personality and our experience.