I feel like you're slipping through my open fingers, our relationship falling like a handful of sand and no matter how fast or hard I clench my fist you find the little cracks to fall through

They say that when kids reach late teens, they fight, and grow distant, they grow to resent their parents and relationships fail, but I feel like I'm something new, our relationship isn't disappearing, you aren't fading into the distance, instead you are transforming into something new and I'm no longer your little girl.

Early today we went to the mall, and as we sat and ate lunch you said the strangest thing. You started talking about your job and about your feelings, treating me like an adult at last. The way I had always wanted you to talk to me my whole life. Like I was a friend and you could confide in me, because I still can't talk to you about the devastation I've encountered, but you finally understand that though I am still small my eyes hold wisdom and the gibberish you think I hear, comes like a melody in comprehensible packages. The codes you have come untangled to my ears, because I too have experienced your codes.

As a little girl I waited begging into my pillow that you would treat me this way, that you would talk to me like a friend. But the other day you did, and something was missing. I missed the way that you used to talk to me with your eyes shining carefully watching your words. The way that you would censer your topics as if I didn't understand the truth.

And now that you do this, that you talk to me like a new found friend you met at work, I miss being your little girl. I see the shinning eyes as your talk to my younger brother, and I miss the days you looked at me with that little kid look. Because now you see me with eyes of an equal, because I'm not your little girl anymore, because our mother daughter relationship has slipped through my fingers and the love you showed like chocolate kissing placed on the pillow of your every action, have been given to another and now my mother is slipping away.

Depression is a feeling
an emptiness
a loneliness
an extreme sadness

It is an emotion
filled with dread
a sense of living dead
not an illness in your head

When a child comes home crying
sad eyes with tears
do you offer them pills and cures
teaching them that sadness is a mental disability?

No, you welcome them
you wipe away the tears
and wrap them in a warm hug
telling them to let it out
that its okay to cry

Why must we treat depression so different
Depression is a feeling
a thousand times more intense than sadness
so we need the cure a thousand times over

People need hope and happiness
hugs and warm kisses
jokes and support
family and friends

We need to stop theaching people
that it is wrong to feel
that emotions that strong are frowned upon
something you must drown
in drugs and supperess to be
accepted by society

because depression is not a mental illness
depression is a feeling
an emotion
that needs human support and happiness
not synthetic chemicals
and the segregation
that comes with being "disabled"

when someone is happy, we see them as happy
as laugh and smile along
when someone is sad we see them as sad
and try to cheer them up
when someone is depressed
we cast them aside, title them as broken
ask them to take pills to be happy
and lose the reminder of what really matters
throwing the people
further into societies forbidden emotion

0:00
I fly through the front doors
racing upstairs like hunted prey
praying she didn't see me

1:00
I tear open the make remover
and feverishly rip off
the overpowering
jet black eyeliner

2:00
I steal a glance in the bedroom mirror
and throw on a hoodie over my black shirt
quickly swapping out the black pants for jeans
in a crude attempt to look normal

3:00
I hear her steps ringing off the stairs as my heart beats
sounding together like a drum kit
I pull off my spiked black bracelets
and trinkets
hands shaking palms sweating
as I hide them away

4:00
I feel the door opening before it does and
hope i covered up the look, the spikes hidden
the eyeliner gone
i glance in the mirror and see a pale
empty girl looking back
terrified of being caught

5:00
she asks how my day was while casually looking around the room
her ever seeing eyes falling on my undoing
my small black spiked gothic bracelet
hanging off the desk
sticking out like a sore thumb

6:00
she asks what it is
and looks at me questioningly
talking about how she deposes the style
hates the look
as I fumble for an excuse
of the unusual possession

7:00
I lie, its easy now i do it all the time.
But this was different. I tell her
that its a stupid birthday gift
a throwaway I keep because
friends like to see me wear what they bought
but as I utter the words
I feel like Im stabbing my soul
twisting a knife
calling a part of my identity garbage
telling myself that part of myself is simply a throw away
and despite the fact that I use a fake knife
The sting still feels real
because I know that part of what I say is true

You lull me into security
And offer to be my friend
You tare away what little
Pieces of love are left and
Feed them to my brother
Untill I can't take it
And accept our transformation
I thought it was for the better
To be treated like an adult
But I didn't realize
That your tiny share of like
I can't even call it love
Came with strings attached

You would treat me like a friend
Talk with words not melodies if..

You could remind me you were my mother any time we fought

If you could blackmail me with things I want to do

And order me around like a king when you are mad

To talk about me behind doors in hushed voices
And discuss my stupidity,
Uglyness and horridity

If you could spread rumors and tell people you think I'm anorexic and fat at the same time

But all the while tell me to my face that none of that is true, that we are friends and that I could tell you anything

While now the shrade is up
I've scratched the cards
And removed the grime
And I don't like what I see
But at least it's not a lie to me.
The truth and honesty being pain
But not as much
As the realization that we will never be the same
You took your love and gave me something fake
But now I've broken down the crude cardboard sign and I won't fall for it again. Because now I know
What paper hearts look like.

If I have to worry about if I'm replying to you too quickly and seeming over eager or something, the length of my texts being too long or the content of my texts being too weird, or the amount of texts I send you at once being too much because I'm scared I'll freak you out and annoy you by making you feel like I'm talking too much and won't shut up or I'm obsessed with you or something, then we are not really friends.

I try so hard to be beautiful
If you only knew
But there is nothing beautiful
About the things I do

I try to be less so I can feel like I'm more
But does the number on the scale even matter anymore?

I'm promising and promising I ate before I came
But these pretty little lies are driving even me insane

And if you can't see through my smile
If you can't figure it out
I'm slowly killing myself
From the inside out