"Careful, it burns." you warn
And you tell anyone who will listen
You post on the news and shout to the world
Of the flames that dangerously glisten

"Careful, there's fire." you cry
And you tell everyone to watch out
Because once the fire starts
All around you are screams and shouts

"Careful." you say "Careful." you caution
But you don't do anything about the flames
You throw water balloons in futile attempts
You think this forest fire's simply a game

"Careful!" you scream. "Careful, it's urgent!"
But no one hears you anymore
Because you're the one who started the fire
And no one sides with the wager of war

You tell me to be careful
And keep the lighter locked inside
But then you dump a gallon of kerosene
And look on at the flames with pride

I'm done
With hatred and anger and pain
I'm done
With feeling stuck in a never-ending rain
I'm done
With watching my friends make wrong choices
I'm done
With people who don't use their voices
I'm done
Watching the world spin into a chaotic mess
I'm done
With the lies and the muffled "I guess"
I'm done
Feeling anxious and panicked and sad
I'm done
But wait-

I'm done with the hatred but I'm too scared to stand
I'm done passively watching but it's all I've got planned
I'm done with the liars but I'm the worst of them all
I'm done with emotions, but I still let myself fall

I'm much too afraid
And I don't know how
To use the numbness as fire
Or to yield flames from my frown

It's all just a mess
Like the wreckage of nature
But this disaster is different
This disaster's been planned
Oh, this catastrophic nightmare-
It's the wreckage of man

Depression is not feeling sad
Or thinking your decisions are bad
It's having this cloud go over your head
It's lying at night awake in your bed
It's coloring shapes to make yourself see
Something, anything for which you could become free
It's shaking and pausing and pretending to sleep
For being numb is much better than taking the leap
And depression is strange for it makes you think faster
Your thoughts speed around til you make them your master
So you paint on a smile and go out to be
The person your family and friends think they should see
They don't need to know about the hurt you can't feel
For to them, you're just fine, though this sensation is real
And the emptiness consumes you until you feel small
For depression is feeling everything and nothing at all.

And suddenly
I knew that my world was about to change
I knew I'd have a week to do what I've been forcing everyone else to do for months
And suddenly
I broke

The room was silent but I heard noise
The sound of every persons voice
I knew the floor was solid but it shook
My legs just trembled, I was an open book

My head collapsed, each neuron failing
But did I really have the right to be ailing?
I couldn't eat, I choked on liquid
And if anything controlled me, anxiety did

I wanted to run but I panicked instead
My legs felt like they were made of lead
The room just spun like a merry go round
I did everything I could to find solid ground

And slowly
I knew there was nothing but facts.
Nothing but the cold hard truth of responsibility
And slowly
I let myself cry

"You should be happy" you say
As though you think your words will make me okay
So I pull out my sharpie and draw on a grin
No one wants to see that endless pain that I'm in

But I should be happy, so I smile and wave
And I go even further on this path that I pave
You're none the wiser, you buy what I sell
"I am happy." I say, and you think all is well.

There's a strange sensation
When you start to grow
And you assume no one else grows up
That everyone else's lives move slow

But then you look at them and realize
They're growing too
And the hardest part to accept is
That they're growing separately than you

It's like picking up in the same place with a different person
Because the person you know is gone
But there's still a hint of them left inside
That part of them will always carry on

That's why they say friends are friends forever
Although the closeness slowly fades
And you know they're there, but not enough
That's what we try to evade

But the thing we forget when we are young
Is that time is a force, strong like a brick wall
And the older we get, the more we realize
That time hasn't stopped, for us or at all.

It's like watching a bomb
The seconds ticking down
5 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes
Except for then, it disappears

You can't see the timer anymore,
But you hear every infinitesimal click as The seconds pass
Counting is too hard

So you live in oblivion
Watching this invisible bomb
Biting your lip and scratching your arms
As long as the bomb is here,
You are anxiety

You, and you alone,
Hear the ticking of the bomb
Once in awhile, someone passes
And they hear it too- for a second

But they never stay
They always leave to less dismal places
Where there are no invisible bombs
They do not believe you

Sometimes you stay there for weeks
Months, years on end
Watching this bomb
That never explodes fully
This is anxiety.

Being a person is hard because
When you want to be bad
You have to be good.
You have to keep doing
What you know that you should.

You want to be angry?
That stuff ain't allowed
You simply must ***** it out
You must be quiet- and anger is loud.

Being a person is hard because
When you need to be alone
People need you to be theirs.
And then suddenly you don't matter
Your life is consumed by their cares.

You want to have feelings?
Oh, we don't like those here.
We frown upon sadness
We don't accept fear.

Humankind sings the songs of freedom
And "goodwill to all men" too
But we help you forget that "all men"
Also means being good to you.

Being a person is theoretically easy
It's the strings attached that make it hard
But the strings- they tie you down and then
Like glass, they break you to a single shard.

Soon
The Lightning McQueen light ups lying on the floor will be traded for shiny black pumps
Soon
The screams will be muffled cries for help rather than loud, blatant shouts of disobedience
Soon
Dinner won't be a time to be together, it'll just be another meal
Soon
Nights up late choreographing will be nights up late writing essays
Soon
Coming home won't mean the excited shouts of tiny voices, rather, silence or the sound of adulthood
Soon
Everything that used to be, won't be
Soon
Everything I know will be different.

Technically, you can't see I'm sad
That's because I haven't been coloring
That's because I haven't been crying
That's because I function like a normal person
Clearly, that means I'm not sad

But that doesn't mean I am happy
Yes, I smile
Yes, I laugh
Yes, I complete most of my responsibilities
Obviously, I am happy

But that is not so.

I have reached a plateau
I don't move up
I don't move down
I don't move in circles
I don't move around

I sit in a line, going straight into space
Going straight into nowhere
Going to the abyss

It's an endless cycle of moderate
Mixed with an unceasing parade of mediocrity
Nothing exceptional
Nothing disastrous
Just a plateau

And I'm stuck.

I am not sad
I am not happy
I am just a rock
A flat topped rock in the middle of nowhere.