i want to talk
but the words don't come out
for i fear
you would find it uncomfortable

i want to talk
but i don't know how to say it
because my feelings
are a complete mess

i want to talk
but i don't know if you'd even appreciate the gesture
because i'm scared
that you will see me different

all i want to do is talk about how you feel
ask about how your day was
why you're not very excitable when your sister asks you to watch a movie you love
but you don't respond the way i hope you do

i don't know how to talk to you

Nothing really lasts
Even a fraction of a second
can end as soon as it came

No love can last
None strong enough to endure
The madness that burrows
Itself deep within me

Unfixable
Unforgivable

I am nothing
But a mere shadow
Of existence

Seeking love
In all the
dangerous places

Nothing lasts
Not love
Not I

All that remains is
This illness
That carries me
That will always carry me

The echo fills my head
Never wanting to leave my bed
Falling through a dark abyss
Lined with brimstone and a deafening hiss

Everything touched turns to coal
Always starting a brand new goal
Never seeing it to the end
Blood against blood, a lonely soldier I try to mend

The strips of my soul left bare for all to see
To laugh at me, like "How dare she?"
Still so young but I hurt too many
Too many bridges I burned already

Yet, a daisy grows among the weeds
And I stare, wondering what'll fulfill my needs
A doctor? A lover? Another survivor?
The daisy shines so I wear my suit and become a diver

Deep in the pit, I see myself
Dust off everything high on the shelf
Years of neglect and self-loathing and lies
The memories come flooding amongst my cries

No! This is too much for one person to take
Why can't I do what others can so easily fake
Because this is who I am, so I stand up tall
And look at my reflection without any fear at all

I'm depressed.
But, I mean, I'm still me right?
Like, I am still me
So what if I lie awake at night?
So what if I can't stay awake during the day?
So what if I get nothing done?
I am still me
I don't talk to my friends
I don't see my parents
I don't write anymore poetry
But it's just a temporary thing
It will be fine
Or at least that's what the doctor tells me
So this pill will do for now
Maybe it will show me how
To be me again
Because maybe I am not me
Maybe this depression is what "me" actually is
And maybe I am just a hopeless project
Waiting to be finally set on the shelf
So all my friends and family
Can start on a different project
One that will actually be worth the effort
Instead of wasting their time on me

It's the small things,
That make the best memories.

The smell of cocoa beans,
That takes you back to that day sledding,
And the cup of hot chocolate afterwards,
The love of a warm home.

The taste of grape juice and rice crackers,
That makes you remember grandma,
Her beautiful kindness she shared,
Because she loved your visits.

The old dusty truck,
Dented and rusted in places,
But you remember the camping trips,
And how dad loved to take you,

The amazing smell of garlic,
Nights when you came home starving,
And mom made the most delicious spaghetti,
And you tasted love in each bite.

And sometimes it's even less than that,
Maybe someone shared a smile with you,
Held the door open for you,
Or waved a hello.

Give a stranger a happy memory,
So they know someone cares,
Because they may not have very many,
And everyone deserves to feel love.