I like writing because there's all these words in my head that i'm never able to say out loud because of how introverted and anxious I am and people never seem to want to listen to me talk so by writing, I can actually speak. And the world will actually listen.

I don't get offended when people criticise me because nobody can hurt me more than i've hurt myself.

To the outcasts, the freaks
To the silent ones, the unheard
To the criers, the broken
To the heartless, the damaged
To the screamers, the closed off
To the drowners, the dying
To the breathers, the living
To the strong, the weak
To the flimsy, the fragile
To the suicidal, the struggling
To the raging, the bitter
To the sad, the lonely
To the misunderstood, the confused
To the 'why don't you talk,' the 'why don't you shut up?'
To the 'it's all in your head,' the 'It's not important enough'
To the 'stop acting,' the 'stop faking'
To the 'stop being so dramatic,' the 'there are people worse off than you'
To the 'shut up,' the 'you're making no sense'
To the 'I don't understand,' the 'nobody feels this way'
To the 'I can't help you,' the 'get over it'
To the 'you're weird,' the 'this isn't normal'
To the 'go away,' the 'nobody wants you here'
To the 'you break everything you touch,' the 'just die already'
To the 'broken ones,' the 'freaks'
To everyone, to always
To whatever you do, whatever you say
To everything, to everyday
You are not alone.
~ hk

Depression and anxiety
     is a complete
               and utter
                       contradiction.

                                                      You're body
                                                 says '**** it.'
                                       while your mind
                                         says 'what if?'

I just have this wave washed over me and it isn't drying away.

Depression is when the clouds leave you for a while, but they stand, hovering, remnants of it leaked into the atmosphere, and if one little thing goes haywire, well, then it comes back. And hard. It is not something that can go and stay for a little while. It's always there, hovering, waiting for the right time to strike.

And i'm not coping. No matter how much you think I am, no matter how much I try to show that I am; it hurts too much. It hurts everyday and I can't relieve myself of this aching pain in my chest and the heaviness of it all. I try and I try but I just can't. It just, simply, hurts too much.