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1.)    I don’t want you to think I’m crazy

2.)    People see your pain and they see an opportunity to play the good guy. The hero in your twisted little fairytale. The public finds out you’re chemically imbalanced and the magic spell is cast! Like Cinderella’s dress, their contempt for you transforms into love and admiration. They now feel the need to let you know they are there, they care, they pray for you. When they can’t even remember your name.

3.)    Expression of my depression is not a cry for attention. You asked me how I was and I’m really tired of using the word “fine”.

4.)     “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem” **** THAT and all the same psychobabble ******* that’s recycled over and over again. If you want to help me tell me what you think. Tell me how you feel. Don’t google mental illness and memorize the wiki page I already did.

5.)    Self-harm gets enough publicity already. If you want this trend to go away stop drawing hearts on your wrists, wearing orange ribbons on your chest, and telling people you love them but only if they hate themselves first.

6.)    And while we’re on the subject what’s this obsession with kissing scars? You're not the lead singer of some punk band you’re my boyfriend. Kiss my lips or kiss my ***

7.)    If I wanted another therapist I’d buy one

8.)    What if you think I’m weak 8) What if I am weak 8) You’ll know I’m weak

9.)    How am I to explain to you what’s wrong with me when I can barely admit it I have a problem in the first place.

10.)  I want you to know my favorite songs, Why I hate my name or how I once ate 50 starbursts in one sitting. I want you to know the good things. I want you to know me. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.
 Jun 2015 Ben McDermott
Nevermind
The memories flood in
At 3 A.M.
All the "oh wells"
All the "what ifs?"
What a convenient time
To have regrets on my mind
There's no where to run
Nowhere to hide
The darkness of the room
Is like an art gallery
In which all my mistakes are displayed
Mocking me
Or maybe it's like
A giant screen
Playing the same scenes
On repeat
Everyone's forgotten
But I just can't
I have indiscernible blood
On my hands
I'll never be able
To wash it off
Or take the paintings
Off the wall

— The End —