People always tell me that it gets better.
They tell me to be strong.
They tell me to keep fighting.
They say how I'll be happy again one day.

But I don't believe any of it anymore.
I'm tired of trying.
I'm tired of being strong.
I'm tired of fighting.

What they don't see is my everyday life.
They don't see how hard it is for me just to get out of bed.
They don't see me crying for no reason.
They don't see me contemplating cutting myself.

They don't understand how hard life is when you're depressed.
They relate it to just being sad,
But it's not.
I'm not just sad.

I hate who I am.
I hate that I let people down.
I hate that I can't get out of bed.
I hate that I have scars on my arms.

It won't get better.
I can't handle this anymore.
I can't keep fighting for "better".

I'm sorry that I'm a wreck,
I cry for no reason at all
I talk too fast,
I can't get out of bed sometimes,
I laugh so hard at nothing.

I'm sorry that I don't even understand it,
I can't explain to you how I feel,
I feel different every week,
I can't control my emotions,
I cope by cutting my own skin.

I'm sorry that it's hard to be my friend,
I don't want to talk sometimes,
Sometimes I talk so much,
I don't want to be friends sometimes,
Sometimes I just want to be friends.

I'm sorry that I'm not like your other friends,
I don't take jokes like others,
I take things too personally,
You have to watch what you say,
I am sensitive.

I'm sorry I'm not normal,
I'm not funny,
I'm not fun to be around,
I'm not happy,
I'm not sad.

I'm sorry I don't focus on you,
I don't ask about you enough,
I don't make you feel better,
I don't talk about you long enough,
I'm selfish sometimes.

I'm sorry.

Do you ever see a picture, and it brings back tons of memories?
You see yourself there again.
Like nothing ever changed.
You remember how you felt in that exact moment.
You remember how happy you were,
how many friends you had at the time.

Do you ever hear a song, and it takes you to a certain time in your life?
You listen cloesely.
You remember how lost you felt.
You remember the people that weren't there for you, but the song was.
You flashback to the nights you spent crying listening to the song.

Do you ever see somebody's name come up and the memories just flood in?
The good times, the laughs, the hugs, the talks, the friendship.
The bad times, the crying, the fighting, the ending of a friendship.

Do you ever get a text and think "wow I'm glad I have you"?
You think how much your life has changed.
How much better things are now.
How much they have helped you.
How happy you are they stepped in.

Looking back at all of the memories, the good and bad memories, definitely don't compare to the new memories being made.
Life is worth living.

People that don't self harm
Don't seem to understand it.
But I don't expect them to.

First, it hurts, A LOT.
It hurts when you first do it
And it hurts the next day.
It hurts when your long sleeves rub against it
And it hurts when you look at what you did.

Next, cuts bleed, A LOT.
At first they don't bleed,
You start cutting deeper,
Then they bleed, a lot.
It doesn't stop bleeding.

Please don't tell me to just stop.
I can't just stop.
It's so addicting.
Even though I want to stop,
I can't.

It starts out as you control it,
But then it ends up controlling you.
You want to wear short sleeves?
Think again, you can't.
You want to go swimming with friends?
Oh yeah, they'll probably think you're crazy.

Every time you do it one more time,
It becomes more and more addicting.
Just one more you think, but no.
This is the last time, but it's not.
You can't just stop.

I don't mean to hurt the people around me.
In that moment, all I can think about is
Hurting myself.
I'm sorry for hurting everyone else
While I'm hurting myself.

Oh honey, depression isn't pretty,
it isn't suppose to be,
people always connect sadness
with depression
but the connection is different,
it is a train of thought
like a chain cut short,
that is sturdily held together
but it doesn't last forever,
it is an armour that is worn
and polished everyday
just to say, 'I'm not sure'.

Oh honey, depression isn't pretty;
it isn't suppose to be,
and I want you to know clearly,
that there are always people
out there, somewhere,
who appreciate you for you
and who is nothing more than
a teardrop or a sweat dripping
away from help.

Some might ask,
'Are you depressed?'
and I can say, 'no I'm not',
so what I write is an expression of mind,
of how I wish you could find, that you
have a chance, because you deserve that chance,
the past is the past, a certain glance at the future
says that you could be doing so much more
and if you don't want to, that's your choice
but honey, depression isn't pretty
and it isn't suppose to be,
but you sure are beautiful,
so please keep staying strong
and marching on.