Growing up was a bit difficult.

They always said
That it is easier to frown than smile.
Maybe they were right -
It is so much easier to feign a smirk
than to ask for help.

You feel so much less than human
because your mind holds a weak memory
of what it meant to be whole;
Maybe, despite everything,
I am still human,
But all I feel
is that I'm dying here.
People toss jokes up in the air
Like balloons flying up towards the sky;
Unaware that, though they'll never see them again,
They keep floating and floating
to the top of our heads
Until they explode from too much pressure.
Life's hills and valleys become canyons and mountains
And when someone tells me to just get over it,
I don't think they realize
The monumental effort that goes into that;
As if I can't wait to wake up to a cold sweat
Worked up by running away
from the vivid nightmares that I had
During the few minutes that my body actually was asleep,
or that I'm absolutely thrilled
To perfectly plan out my last breath,
Writing suicide notes on our wrists
And numbing what little grip we have on reality
by popping pill
                      after pill
                               after pill
until you have enough drugs in your system
To never feel pain again.

Friends tell you that they'll be there for you.

Parents say it's just a phase.

The doctor claims antidepressants will do the trick.

But the friends won't keep you grounded
When your lifeless body is left hanging by a noose;

you can't have another phase
If you throw yourself into Hell for eternity
And those ******* antidepressants
Have side effects
of increased depression and suicidal tendencies,
So that instead of taking my daily doses,
I'll plug my throat with every last pill
until the suffocation drowns out
All the noise.
I can't just get over it.
I need help,
Because I am depressed.
But I refuse to let this turn into my suicide note.*
Instead,
Let me put to word the voices of millions
who are afraid of finding out
just how much worse tomorrow can get.