I'm not sure who I am
or where I'm going
what choices to make
which direction to go
just floating in space.
always alone.
when I do open up
about how I feel inside
"I'm always here for you"
yet they're nowhere in sight
no one checks in
to see how I am
temporary caring
permanent hurting
I feel unwell
fragile, broken
where do I turn
who do I tell
how do I
get help?

and do I even want it?

Each morning I practice my smile in the mirror
above the bathroom sink
Does this look real enough,
is my happiness convincing?
And this hollow, vacant shell
where a human should be
does it look alive?
like a normal functioning body?
And when you look into my eyes
"the windows of the soul"
do they sparkle, shine brightly?
can you tell that they are empty?

There is only so much of yourself that you can give away
until there is nothing left
And I was giving you parts of me
that I never even had.

And it's not that I don't love you
It's just that it hurts
It's just that everything hurts

How the **** do I stop hurting?

I wake up every morning
Force myself out of bed
Maybe shower, brush my teeth
Maybe force myself to eat
Keep myself alive

But truth is I don't want to be
I pray for death daily
And I'm sorry
I'm so sorry
You had to meet me.

The idea of death doesn't scare me
The idea of my death hurting those I love does
and if I'm being honest that doesn't seem like enough
and if I'm being honest, how could it ever be?

When depression is your best friend you tend to listen to its every word
It becomes your closest confidante, the single one thing to rely on.
On days my depression leaves me, I feel lost.
but I'm comforted in the fact that it's only momentarily
because unlike others, depression will always come back.
We've built up a trust like that.

So when my depression whispers in my ear
that everyone will be fine without me, eventually
I have no choice but to listen
you see, why would depression lie to me?

When it comes to the idea of life and taking my own
and in enters the cacophony of voices saying
"think of those that love you"
What they don't realize is, I do.
Depression loves me the most.

and I know, in the end
it will open up its arms
swallow me whole
and say to me,

welcome home.

Sometimes when I'm feeling a little too good
I'll think of you
to remind myself I deserve nothing more
than to be broken and alone

And don't you worry
You've planted enough seeds of doubt
to where I'll always be missing you,
and hating myself.

I've talked to the doctors
I'm taking the pills
Medication, meditation
but it all seems to fail

I'm shackled down
by the weight of my misery
and what other steps
can I take to be free
except to find
the tallest building

and leap.