Depression. Oh malicious depression.
Always there, never fading away, or going away in this case.
Coming at me like she's my first priority.
Staying in my life because I guess I like the company, the feeling like there's always a weight on my shoulders, always a reassurance that I'm definitely not going to be in the mood for anything besides sleep and sometimes not even that.
Depression is my side chick, not only because I need some difference in my brain, some pizazz to keep things spiced up, or spiced down, but because my brain needs some company while the main chick happiness is away.
My side chick goes away sometimes when the main is in town.
While happiness is with me I'm always scared because what if depression finds out and comes to win me with pure determination.
So I ditch happiness...
Depression gets total control over me and I can't seem to find hope of ditching her and finding someone like happiness again.
Depression finds the time to insert unwanted thoughts into my brain, talk to me like I'm some slave to it, I guess I am in a way.
She's inconsistent in her time with me,
I talk to happiness still to fill in the times when depression isn't there, it's not the same with her.
Sure we're close and spend time together, but happiness is never really there with me like she was prior to depression.
Depression is jealous that I spend time with happiness, but I can't help it.
Happiness will always have a place in my brain.
Unlike depression happiness has been there since the beginning.
Depression came along for the attention a couple years ago and now we're in a relationship that only goes one way.
Depression loves me, I definitely do not love depression.
I hang on to depression since she's all I have left...
Happiness is at the back of my mind constantly wanting to be set free from my thoughts.
I just can't let go,
Can't let go of the feeling happiness gave me, can't let go of the love she gave and still gives to me as a far off friend.
You see happiness found relationships in the people around me, she is constantly prominent in their lives, they never fail to give her attention, treat her like the priority in their lives.
I miss happiness, she was great...
Now I have the ***** called depression and she's not leaving anytime soon, so I sit with her, attempt to love her and fail miserably at doing so.
I try and tell her that I don't want her anymore but she keeps coming at me with kindness and affection.
So now I just sit with her and happiness is held in the back of my mind slowly fading away and depression is now my partial past my entire present and most likely to be future.

I live in a lifeless society
This is a society where people are sad,
If they aren't sad they are full of joy;
They must have a nice life, hidden from the dangers and darkness.
This society looks down on people,
People who aren't perfect,
People who are different,
 People who are teens,
People who aren't famous,
Girls without thigh gaps,
Girls that don't follow the trends,
Guys that aren't popular,
Guys that don't always get the girls,
People who are broken.
We are the broken,
We keep each other up;
While society beats us down 
We remain strong for each other.
Some of us aren't strong enough,
Society beats us to death;
Giving us more reasons
To leave and escape our lives.
Our Society is lifeless,
Nobody can change it. 
Society doesn't care until you have disappeared;
Even then society will be lifeless.
m.m.

The endless nights where you and your friends spend hours talking are above average.
People pass you by on the street, but the one stranger to compliment you is above average.
The feeling of accomplishing something is above average.
Your life is above average.
Don't treat yourself as if you were an average joe because I promise you your not.
There is greatness in this world that you have yet to achieve and find, don't label yourself as average when you have not reached your full potential.
When all has failed you still have yourself.
You are the most important person in your life, if you haven't realized that then I hope you do some day.
Sometimes you may hate yourself and that's an average feeling, but that is not all of you.
You write the thought prescriptions for your brain, that's average but what you make out of it isn't.
The way you smile and laugh at weird things that you like isn't average, it's you.
You're, you.
Even if you still believe that you are the average joe or if you want to be the average joe, you may never achieve it.
You are unique.
A minuscule part of you is average,
that doesn't make all of you that way...

The moment your eyes sparkled in the midst of talking about another person is the moment my heart shattered.
Sure I kept denying that you didn't love me, that the person that you shared I love yous with wasn't just me or your family, no, it was this person that you had been in love with for ages. Deep down I know you're over my drawings,
over my sadness,
over my joy,
over me.
To get away was all I could see.
Plane tickets were the only way I could cope with the pain.
Traveling. Not running from you or your newfound lover. Traveling.
Eventually I had to come back from it all and face the fact that you were no longer my lover but their lover.

Blades of grass laying in the bottom of a bin underneath the trash of yesterday's sorrows.
The grass is silver and there isn't enough time to register that this isn't really grass... These are blades from my past and present and grim future.
Blades that slice open my left arm and my right leg.
The wind blows my right arm to make the grass blades dance across my skin.
It cuts so deeply that my need to feel something, turns into the need to feel nothing.
Physical pain was the least of my worries.
The emotional pain was worse than any bruise I got from my family.
The fact that leaving them, the people who torched my childhood, hurt worse than actually loving them.

My life is now a constant fear of being near to the thing inside my skull called a brain.
My depression has gone from me being comfortable with it to me avoiding my inner feelings like a plague.
Happy. Sad. Happy. Sad. Happy. Sad. Sad. Sad..
Trying to escape the fear of the thing inside my skull called a brain is nearly impossible, but you can call up a doctor and hope that the miracle medicine balances out the chemical imbalance in the the thing inside your skull.
I just guess I'll have to pull back the layers of trauma and go down to what's really affecting me.
Failure.
Failure is not the thing inside my skull, it's just a production put on by it. Yet it still strikes fear into the organs inside my rib cage sending them into overdrive.

People ask why I'm so tired when it's around the time of 10 in the morning.
I say that it's because I just couldn't sleep...
That's only partially true, because late in the evening what I think about is blue, actually it isn't that color but this is what people say I'm like when I feel this way.
Late in the evening my life is being clouded by the blue that people say is the true color of sadness.
My sadness doesn't have a true color it's a tie dye of all my old memories because it seems like they don't exist anymore. All it seems like anymore is the grey tint of the skin around my eyes when I look into the mirror.
Late in the evening my sadness is an illness that makes my whole body ache, it's like an earthquake went through my heart and the waves of destruction afterwards never went away.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that late in the evening I'm just hoping that the tie dye of my memories will slowly fade away and become the echoes of my sadness that would not be surrounding me any longer, but I guess for now I will just have to wait.

"The worst emotion to feel for me to feel would be happiness."
Moments after I said that the words "the high is never even comprehendible to the low " came tumbling out of my mouth...
Chemical imbalances in my brain are the ones to come hurdling down at me like raindrops of thunderstorms in Kansas because I can't seem to ever catch a "good umbrella". Happiness dwindles just as fast as it came and the low is something that the doctors can't prescribe medication for. The doctors can toy with your emotions and not in the way THAT person can, but in a way that they prescribe medications to do it for them.
Happiness is the worst emotion because if your brain is as completely unbalanced as mine, (as you can see from the work previous to this) then you know the pain and aching loneliness of the low.

Shot down. The reason being who a person loves.
This is no longer a coincidence, violence seems to be a scene of a movie that nobody can seem to get over.
Shot down. Another reason being you and me are alive and breathing.
"**** happens" it's not an occasional occurrence to the person that loses someone.
Shot down for the main reason that some people don't understand that that no matter what, we can be sheltered for quite some time, but sooner or later we have to step outside and realize what's really happening.

"I'm tired mommy" I say as merely a child.
This is the type of tired sleep could fix...

This was a long time ago and now I'm a teen
"I'm tired mom" I say this often and I sleep so much that I'm tired just because of sleep.
This is the type of tired sleep causes...

What about the tiredness I feel everyday, every morning after I had a good nights rest.
What about the "I'm tired" that I say every day to people around me; yet they don't understand that me being tired isn't the kind that sleep can fix.

Me being tired is the kind that doctors prescribe medication for, they try and make me better; in the end all the medication in the world cannot fix me.
Always tired.
Always tired.
Always tired.
It's an arsenal of one phrase that my mind repeats that has more than one meaning.
Always tired is just as bad as my mind saying "you're always sad, you're a disappointment, nobody will love you because you're like this, just go **** yourself; people would care but would you?"

Always tired is my code word for "hey mom I'm not really tired I'm just really depressed and I need that therapy appointment I asked you for but you turned it down because I didn't have a reason for it".

"I'm tired mommy" I whisper as my dying words slip past my lips.
This is the type of tired sleep can't fix but death can.