We talked about my future, and my skin began to itch,
Because I have no ideas for it that I want to pitch.
My mom says be a surgeon, my dad says just get rich,
So we talked about my future, and my skin began to itch.
I sat on my bed itching, trying not to cry.
My brother asked what’s wrong, so I knew I had to lie.
I said, “Oh, it’s nothing!!” He shrugged and said goodbye,
Leaving me alone to itch and just try not to cry.
We talked about my feelings, I started to itch my arm,
Because all this weight I was carrying began to bring me harm.
I told her, “I’m okay, love.” She smiled and said I had charm,
Then she left me all along in there, so I had to itch my arm.
The skin peeled off, I scratched and picked too terribly,
I cried and sobbed while my newly naked arms began to slowly bleed.
The skin was in my fingernails, a bandage my arm needs,
I got up to go and get one while the blood came up in crimson beads.

“Really, he’ll be—”
“But m—be-”
“There isn’t anything we can—”
“THERE HAS— SOM—ING”
“Sir, I’m going to—ask you to—sit—”
“DON’T TELL—DOWN—”
“…I assure you—”
“*******—may—then—weeks—”
“Sir, please calm—”

Depression.
Some say it's all in your head, others say you're just being dramatic.
But what they don't understand is that you already know that.
You know because you tell yourself that every single time you feel that pit in your stomach that says, "I am empty, but I do not know why."
No, the pit in your stomach will not go away, but you will never know why it's there. You are not sad, you are not lonely, you are just empty.
This emptiness takes away any and all will you had to just write a five hundred word essay that is due in 5 hours. The feeling that will change when you sleep, when you eat, how you dress, who you keep around, and so on.
This feeling will drag you by your cut wrists to the bathroom to step on a scale you already checked 5 minutes ago.
The feeling shouts, "You are worthless, and nobody loves you."
The feeling says everyone hates you, but you know that's not true.
...Deep down.
But until you've dipped your toe in the water, you won't want to dive deep enough to understand that you matter.
That you are loved.
That you are needed.
Depression is commonly mistaken as a monster.
The monster under the bed that you need your mom to spray with a 60 mL bottle that carries the vaccination.
But it is a lack there of: It is emptiness.
It is tiredness.
I try to find what is making me feel so empty. When I was little, I thought I had found a cure.
I thought it was so simple.
I thought, "Oh, it goes away when I am distracted!!"
But now the feeling has evolved.
It began to feed off of my self-hatred,
and it has grown to be a most wretched beast that will no longer be conquered.
And now the only pieces to the broken puzzle I have found are the broken shards of a mirror I broke when the mirror said I was so horribly ugly.

I forgot the lyrics to the song I loved,
And now I don't even know how it goes.

My notebook is beginning
To look messy
Because the ****** words
Spread to other pages

"We grew apart,"
Though really,
You just left
Because you found
Someone better
And that's okay.
I don't blame you.

Use me,
I don't care
I just want to have a use
Be it a replacement,
A backup,
or a coping mechanism,
use me.