It's 2 a.m.here in Calgary,
I'm sitting on my bed thinking,
I have an English quiz today,
I studied for it,
But of course my anxiety has to come along,
I'm thinking of all the possible outcomes and future of either passing or failing the test,
The numbers so far 5:129
(No don't worry the 129 is the failure side, I told you so that you don't have to ask which ones which),
It's 2 a.m. and I have come up with 134 possible outcomes of this test and my parents make me take sleeping pills that I dump in the toilet,
I drink a lot of coffee and energy drinks,
But I'm still thinking tossing and turning physically and mentally,
Then you wonder why do you have to continue this way,
Then this depression thing comes in and makes my anxiety worse,
Causing a melt down.

It's 2:01 a.m.

The sun don't seem bright today
And there's clouds in the sky

You're just not yourself today
But there's no reason why

You're talking
Crazy
Words in disguise

They see you
Struggling
Hiding your eyes

You say it's in self defense
You tell yourself lies

When you hurt the ones around you
You're not the one who cries

You turn to
Anyone
You can cling to for a day

Gripping
But slipping
On the ground in your way

So be here now
Someway, somehow
We won't be here again

I promise you
When this is through
I'll still be here my friend

Until the end

when this is all i have left
some paper and a pen
to sort through what's going on in my head
i have a voice that doesn't know how to act
how to be loud, only in this silence
and i'm writing to you to tell you
just how much you mean to me
because you no longer like to hear me speak
so this is all i have left
just some paper and a pen
spilling words until everything can make sense again

I want to leave this place,
find somewhere else in which to live.
For I've given here all I have to give.
Find a place I belong,
In a new and happy song.
I could sing about the night,
How the moon in full glory shines so bright.
I would sing about the rain,
How it washed away my tears of pain
and led me to the other side where skies are blue.
That's all i can do...
to not let this world ruin me.

Depression is like acid,
It eats at us furiously and doesn't seem like it is capable of stopping, it burns.

With intense determination, eager to bring us to our knees and sobs to our lips. It damages us, most times irreversibly but what it does is give us a chance to step out of our old skin that is hurting, the skin that doesn't let us sleep at night. But the painful thing is that it is never truly easy to step out of that skin that clings so tightly to our bones.

I honestly believe that whenever I am around people
they are silently wishing for me to go away
I look at their faces as I speak and underneath their smiles
I can see that annoyed look that people get
when they desperately want someone to shut up
When I am alone and away from people
I feel like the ones I love are happier and more alive
I think I drain people
I think the sight of me and the sound of my voice
is equivalent to nails on a chalkboard
Sometimes I imagine how much better off the world would be
without me in it
The thought makes me sad
I don't want to die but I am so tired of feeling like I am upsetting everybody in my life
I feel like a loser
a nobody
I can't express how I feel because people either think I am being ridiculous,
looking for attention
or some other kind of *******
I can't help the way that I feel
I get that on the outside looking in I am difficult to understand
I don't understand myself either
I try so hard to love myself but I can't
Sometimes I think I only try to love myself to please others
It's not that I don't want to love myself
I am incapable of doing so
I guess I am just tired
I'm tired of fighting with my mind
I'm tired of fighting with my self esteem
I am tired of giving my all and getting nothing return
I don't want an award or anything magnificent
It would just be nice for someone to tell me that they like having me around
or that they are proud of me for sticking around despite my constant thoughts telling me to go **** myself
I just want my existence to matter
I don't think that's an awful thing to want

How do you sing a song
At three am
When candlelight monsters dance
And moonlight sunbeams pass
At three am
How do you hear the silence
In the thunder clouds screams
At three am
With a fragrance of desperation
Chimes of broken clocks sound
At three am
The northern factory haunts
The ghost of community laughs
At three am
Someone drinks in the past
Careless and fortuned

We are not really broken
until we are broken
       and then we mend
and break again
      until our bones
become smashed
to smithereens
mapped into tiny lines
         and cracks
with some darkness
        in between
white matter, crushed
             into jigsaw pieces,
laden with blood, with spit, with silt
until the despair
that fear releases
interacts with self-blame
           and guilt
And how they weigh upon us,
these layers of pain
like heavy blankets
on our contours, in the dark
the maze of our pasts
thick upon us
as we strive to envision
                             a spark
perhaps just a tiny glowing,
at first, a barely felt
shadow of light
a glimmer, a whisper of
           knowing,
a drive urging us on
           to fight
and all of our minerals
rub off in sparkling crystals
as we brush up
against the walls
of that ever-blackened tunnel
as we stumble
and steady the fall
feeling a subterranean rumble
a shifting of perspective
as we battle questions,
spinning thick
into the whirlpool of our yearning
into molten metals, slick
We might think we can snap
                           with the ease
of a lonely brittle star
that tomorrow
could be a tribute,
              in lacerations
to the last trace
            of who we are
but it can happen, as we
sit upon, plan the edge
              of our last breath        
                       deep, subtle beats
                        of truth rise up
                to repel the scent
          of death
and, in pulses of light
                  it drifts
bends in willowy arcs
upon our soul it trips
******* light out
from the dark
and all the sharpened hooks
that kept us chained
         to the abyss
are released as
              we break free
into heaven's rolling kiss
feeling the flutters
of a new, kind breeze upon our skin
as Life's vast impulse
courses through us
     and simply wins
and the only demise
we're mourning
is the death of
          of a dormancy,
a resistance to again
receive and give
as we embrace
those little, precious instincts
that tell us to keep on
and choose
            to live