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Apr 2013
They say brick walls (not physical ones) are there to show how hard we want something.
When I think of who I was this morning, I was a stranger in my body.
To my friends: you didn't help me, you helped me help myself. And today, I did just that.
I don't want to be happy.
I don't want to not see things.
I don't want these things anymore. I've achieved those goals.
And really, why cry over stuff? It's not my fault. You bully me, that's your issue. I'm not going to listen to you talk trash.
I don't see things anymore. Why would I bother focusing on them anyway? They're just there to distract me from life, and life is too short for that.
They also say that intelligent people have more depression-related issues. I'd take intelligence any day, because we're smart enough to (eventually) figure out how to get out of it. And that to me is worth more than just being happy, because I can become happy again if I become depressed. And today, I did just that.
I don't want an optimistic perspective anymore. I achieved that.
Most importantly, I don't want her back anymore. She never left. She was in my heart all along.



Signed,
Formerly pessimistic
Formerly depressed
Formerly schizophrenic
Formerly lost
Skye
This isn't really a poem so much as a rant and a message. For all of my friends: thank you for helping me along the way (this isn't a suicide note either for those who would interpret it that way). I really appreciate it.
Skye Applebome
Written by
Skye Applebome  Stokesdale, North Carolin
(Stokesdale, North Carolin)   
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   Timothy, hello, Gary Muir and amt
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