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I'm tired of not dreaming.
My sleep does not rest me,
For when I close my eyes,
I open them back up to reality.

I'm tired of not moving.
My weary eyes stay open,
For if I close my eyes,
I do not go towards a future.

I'm tired of not breathing.
Every time I inhale,
It is to just maintain.
I wish I could still smell the flowers.

I'm tired.

So tired.

But when I'm with you,
I can sleep, dreaming of a future.

When I'm with you,
My stiff body moves forward.

When I'm with you,
I can finally have a breath of fresh air.

When I'm with you,
I'm not tired.
And I will never be tired of you.
The past,
I want to know.

The present,
I wish I could hold.

The future,
Will never be mine.
I'm a strong believer in if you love someone, you will let them be with what and who makes them happy, even if it's not me in the end.
Maybe I am just not the one.
Maybe I'm just here to help you through
This jungled mess called life.

Maybe I'm not going to be with you
Maybe I will just be on the sidelines
Cheering you on till you find the one.

Maybe I just want you to be happy and
Maybe when you find happiness,
You will find it in me.

Maybe you don't find it in me..
If so, that's fine
For as long as you find happiness,
That is all I could ask for.
"Depression is like the weather.
Some days it rains,
Some days it pours,
But if you stick around long enough,
You will see the sun."

That was what my dad told me...
And to an extent he was right.
But the dark clouds follow me
To where I stand in the rain of tears
Brought about by my own self being.

" depression hurts,
 but you don't have to,
 Cymbalta can help."
But at the end of the day
Not all of the medication in the world
Seems to help mend these thoughts.

I want to live,
I don't want to die.
However these thoughts...
These ideas that pop into my mind,
They are foreign and uneasy
To my mind, body, and old soul.

"I'll be fine"
I find myself saying this a lot lately.
I'll be fine. Like my father said, depression is like the weather. I'll eventually see the sun again.
I love you,
As a friend.

I will always be there for you
As a friend.

When times get hard,
I'll be by your side,
As a friend.

I want to be more than just
As a friend.

I want to hold your hand not just
As a friend.

I want to hold you and love you,
but I just stand by your side
As a friend.

But I'm here for you,
As a friend.

I'll never get to be lovers with you
As a friend.

But as long as you're happy,
I'm happy,
As a friend.

But as a friend,
I know what how you want love.

As a friend,
I will be patient.

For if one day you wish to be
Together, I'll be here for you,
As something more than a friend.
To my friend that I will always be there for.
I use to know a little boy
Who would get up every morning
Look in his bathroom mirror
And find a reason to smile.

Like many other kids
He was bullied,
He was bruised and laughed upon.
But despite all that
He still found a reason to get up each morning
Look in the mirror
And find a reason to smile

But like most good things,
There came an end.
For at the age of eight
This little boy lost a part of his heart.

His sister had died.
The one who took care of him
When no one else did.
The one who was there for him
When no one else could
The one who was now gone
That on one else could replace.

After that his life sundered into an abbess,
An agonizing chain of death and regrets
That this little boy received
That would put the most strong and masculine of men
Into a ball of tears in the corner.

Death of a family member
Of someone the little boy held dear
Either died, or came to a point
Where they might as well be dead.

Each time this happened
The smile in the mirror
That the little boy use to be able to form
Turned into tears, and a blank face
Until the smile came nevermore.

He had nothing left.
His heart that was once filled with joy,
Now just an empty ***** in his cheats…

One day, as the kid became older and bolder
He wrote a letter to his parents
With kind, sweet words to let them know
That he would hurt no more.

He took his parents out that day
For one last day of fun,
One last day of smiles
Upon his parents faces,
One last day to say’
“I Love you, goodbye.”

When the night came out
So did his letter
Upon his bed
As he grabbed his shotgun
And snuck out the window.

He sat out in that pasture
For what seemed like an eternity
Until the tears stopped
As he slowly loaded the barrel
Pointed it in his mouth.
Took a deep breath.
And pulled the trigger.

His body fell to the ground.
Tears coming out,
But he wasn’t crying.
No sobs came from his throat.
No movement of his body,
Other than the tears coming out of his eyes.

After what seemed like hours,
He picked himself up off the grassy ground,
Grabbed his gun that jammed up,
Snuck back into his window,
Hid the letter and gun again,
And went back to bed.

The next morning he is greeted by his parents
Who simply say, “Morning.”
Give the kid a smile and a hug
And continue with their morning routine.

After trying not to cry,
But failing after the boy walked away,
Ran to his bathroom
And looked in the mirror.

Though there were tears in his eyes
And sobs in his throat
He looked into the mirror
And found a reason to smile once again.
I only ask is that you may respectful toward this story for it is a true one. So as I said before, please be respectful and considerate toward this story.
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