What is this feeling,
This emptiness I feel,
This loss of hope,
The worry to be alone.

The nightmares that come with this package, This deal in a nice, neat bow,
The nightmares that tell me things,
Things like everyone will leave me,
The ones that say I disappoint my father,
Even from his grave,
The ones that say I should just jump,
Jump off the nearest bridge, that is,
That it’ll just make their lives easier.

I know they’re wrong,
I know my friends are stable as a rock,
That I couldn’t disappoint my father,
That lots people love me for,
Love me too much for me to end it all,
That I’m worth it,
That I’m strong.

I know all of this,
Yet I still question it,
My thoughts,
My worth.

I’m told to get meds to make me okay,
I’m also told I shouldn’t have help until I can do it on my own.

Instead I hide,
I hide the nightmares,
The doubts,
The pleas for help.

I try to be positive,
I tell myself I’m okay,
I force a smile ‘till it sticks,
And I carry on.

Is that why people tell me I’m okay when I open up,
Do I really need medicine to be okay,
Is this all really just a disease,
Something to be cured?
Am I just a mind diseased?