There's a common misconception
when I tell people I have depression,
that I should be pitied or treated like glass,
like it makes me weak and unable.
Sometimes it ***** and my world caves in,
I don't know how to go on
and I can't seem to breathe.
There's something they don't realize,
I wouldn't change it for the world,
each day is a celebration of being alive,
of pain, and air, love and just even surviving.
Depression can make you weak
but it also makes me strong
and I love it, and me for that.