I woke up today with the lingering thought that I wanted to **** myself.
It felt old, causing me to wonder if I had felt it in my sleep as well. It took me a short while to realize that I had no interest in doing this myself. I simply did not wish to exist.

The idea was not new to me, nor was it worrisome. I had felt like this for a long while. Rare though, were the days that it descended so immediately, giving me little time to breathe before blanketing me.
It felt unusually heavy. And yet it felt unusually light. Perhaps not light. Maybe... Thin. Wispy. Immaterial. I could not figure out the source of this deep dissatisfaction with life. It didnt seem to be academic issues. It didnt seem to be social issues. It didnt seem to be home issues. Perhaps it was all of them at once. Perhaps I was tired of working my *** off, tired of feeling so forcefully, tired of answering ridiculous questions. Perhaps I was just plain tired. I was a busy person, after all.
But I had slept well. And I had had 9 days off of school. There wasn't much to warrant feeling this way. But I felt it a lot. I was god awful tired of feeling it. And the feeling seemed to magnify itself. Wanting to die only made me want to die even more.
It was frustrating. Knowing that I couldn't help but feel this way. Knowing that most of my friends didn't handle their problems this way. It was hard. I wanted to be more positive. I wanted to be like everyone else.

But then I wouldn't feel this way. And if I didn't feel this way, I wouldn't talk about it, and if you feel this way, its important to talk about it. Because mental health is stigmatized today.
It's okay to feel like you can't get out, it's okay for your legs to struggle to walk, if you can't stop repeating repeating repeating words, can't control the compulsion to skip the step before the landing. I tell myself this. Its important to tell yourself that your "problems" are normal too. And of course maybe you don't skip the step before the landing, because you aren't, you aren't, you aren't me, but your hands might shake and you might jump at the sound of cabinets slamming, and you might not agree with the voices you hear.
And you might wish that you were dead.
But instead of keeping it a secret, talk about it.
Let someone know.
Let people know that mental health is not a curious oddity, or something that ought to be shunned.
It is something that should be treated just like any physical ailment.
Don't keep it a secret.

Talk about it.

Talk about it.

Talk about it.

I am hanging onto hope even though there's none alive,
I can tell the answer's no by the look that's in your eyes

This is madness
This is madness
I must let go of my dreams
But I can't kick up the dust, lest I wish no more to breathe.

Where the staples of our life are ripped out without a say
Where the horrors of the night persist to bleed into the day
Where our dreams are fractured instantly without time to prepare
And the things we never dreamed of turn into a waking nightmare

Tradgedy strikes indifferently, indiscriminately, without any limits see
My heart pours out to you and everyone within your family
The words which I am rhyming never will be quite enough
But the way you hold your head up's the epitome of tough.

I couldn't find a word which captures all the strength you have
But the pain inflicted on you would drive those without it mad.

Retain that strength, maintain that strength,
Constrain within the river banks
The flood of hurt, but most of all
Remain the man who stands so tall

Thunderstorms is that deep anger inside me. Its rather rare and it doesnt happen very often, but when it does, i just get very miserable and take it out on the people around me. I dont mean to hurt them, i just need to let it out. But since its so rare, there's a sort of beauty in that passionate anger.

Volcanoes. My anxiety lays low and simmers steadily for long periods of time and then it gradually rises and the pressure increases until it explodes, and then it just covers every single surrounding aspect of life, temporarily consuming everything else. Then theres a period of silence and nothingness after. Then I begin to rebuild.

Gentle and persistent rain is just that gloom that hangs around, and you can never quite shake. Its not necessarily painful or harmful, its just dreary and more draining than one would expect. It can be dispelled by strong bursts of sunlight.

Wind is for those times when I rapidly shift, going from gentle and lovable on a hot day to a violent gale which pushes back outside influence.

And the ocean is because im constantly exploring myself constantly trying to map out every section of my brain and my body and my limitations but no matter how deep i ever dive, the pressure is too overwhelming, and ill never know everything, and so theres this.. Mysterious aspect to the deeper parts of the ocean, similar to the deeper parts of my brain.

For those times when my emotions cycle rapidly, I am as destructive as a hurricane. The emotions whip around just as fast as any gust of wind, but truly, they are all just as deadly as each other. Nothing can stop the trio of emotions, they just go until they don't have enough energy to fuel themselves any more.

Forgive me if I am a blizzard. From time to time I become scathingly cold. I become icy, unrelenting and unbearable. Getting caught within the blizzard will leave those so unfortunate with a bad case of frostbite which can only be amputated if you hope to survive. The cold will linger, but the regretful sun will try its hardest to warm you back up.

Then in turn, I will become too confident in myself. The sun will get too hot. It will be too sure of itself, and it will scorch and burn.
As a result, the clouds will roll in and humility will take over, masking the arrogance which was so offensive. On a cloudy day, forgive me, I just wish I could be better.

Be wary of earthquakes. Fear will be felt throughout my body, and it will rock me down to the core, and it will rumble through my mind until I tear apart. Beware of falling objects.

I can feel
The fire burning
Inside us both
When we kiss
And the
Electricity
Between our lips.
Not to mention the
Ocean
In your eyes
When you look
Into mine,
Or the
Volcano erupting
In my chest
As you hold
My shaky
Hands.

Im sick.
But not the way
Youd think.
Im plagued
By pictures of
Her
In my head.
I cough out
Her name
In simple conversation.
Im ailing from
The memories
That never seem to end.
And the medicine's
Run out.
Not like
It helped in
The first place

1,573.
Thats how many times
I thought of you in
The last 2 weeks.

So tell me,
How is it possible
That in an empire
As complex as my mind
All roads lead to

You.