She's not pretty
Kind of twisted in fact
Into knots of every strand of emotion possible
Beauty comes from within
But within she is fighting
Fighting against these knots that have become all she knows
She is crying
But sadness is only temporary
For bipolar disorder makes her feel so many different things at once
One minute she'll be high
The next she'll be arguing with herself
Until she can't understand anything anymore and the last word is hers
But from an unknown source
She is pretty
But she doesn't know it
She won't believe it for she doesn't know how
Her head is full of so many contradicting thoughts and feelings
Like you wouldn't even believe

9/12/15*
What he didn’t know
What he didn’t know was that she knew she wasn’t enough. She knew that right now he’s begging her to be his, but in 6 months he’d be begging her to leave him alone. What he didn’t know was that she knew she wasn’t enough.
What he didn’t know was that she knew he could make her happy, but she couldn’t make him happy.  He didn’t believe her when she told him so. He insisted that she was overthinking it and that everything would work out just fine. What he didn’t know was that she knew he could make her happy, but she couldn’t make him happy.
What he didn’t know was that her life was a lot more complicated than what it seemed. She made her life out to be something it wasn’t. No one knew about her childhood. No one knew about her depression. No one knew how many times she wanted to die, but didn’t have the guts to make it happen. What he didn’t know was that her life was a lot more complicated than what it seemed.
What he didn’t know was that she was incapable of being loved. Every guy that has come along has tried and left. She knew she was a lot to handle. She tried to make it easier, but insecurities could have killed her. What he didn’t know was that she was incapable of being loved.
What he didn’t know was that she loved him. He couldn’t tell by the constant phone calls, constant text messages, tweets, and snapchats. He couldn’t tell by how she always wanted to be with him. He couldn’t tell by her always wanting to touch him, to be held by him, to be kissed by him. He couldn’t tell by her smile. What he didn’t know was that she loved him.
She thought he was different. She thought that they were different.
What she didn’t know was he was the same, and so was she.
What he didn’t know was he couldn’t handle her, and she told him so.

Today my mother asked me if I was depressed. She proceeded to explain to me that she was worried because I never left my room and I just looked sad all the time. As she was explaining to me her reasoning, I thought about the way I've been feeling. How it felt as if everyday I was walking on quicksand. How it was getting harder and harder for me not to cry. How I would be constantly fighting an internal battle.
"Stay in bed, darling. Stay in bed."
"No I can't I have school today"
"Don't eat that. You're not worthy enough to eat"
"But I'm hungry I haven't eaten in 6 hours"
"Don't call your friends they don't care and they all hate you anyways"
"But I'm lonely"
I am constantly screaming at myself.
I am constantly fighting a battle that I feel hopeless in.
It's getting harder and harder to breathe everyday and it *****.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
Pretending has become a habit of mine.
I don't enjoy lying to myself and others.
Every once in a while I tend to break into my parents liquor drawer because I like the feeling I get when I sip *****.
It makes me feel light and airy, and for just a couple of hours, it makes me forget how much I hate myself.
I don't feel time passing by anymore.
I don't know the difference between night and day because everything is just a big blur.
I've lost all feelings and emotions except sadness.
"Are you depressed?" My mother asks me.
"No."

*(b.c.)