The scariest thing about being depressed,
Is thinking if someone knows the truth they won't accept you anymore.
Who wants to be with the girl who has cut herself?
Who wants to feel responsible for you when your mood changes constantly?
It's not like I chose to be this way,
So happy one second,
In tears the next.
It's not like I want to be that girl with the scars on her wrist,
The one who can't take criticism,
I hate myself enough you don't need to do it for me.
I guess I am just waiting for the day,
Someone loves me for who I am enough,
To see past the tears and scars,
And take my misery away.