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Kylie Jo Hushon Mar 2015
And when I wake up,
with the crisp sunlight shining through the shades,
casting horizontal shadows on my cheek,
My heart throbs with hatred
That I survived through the night.
For my love of life is growing bleak.
Wrote this poem about  two years ago when we were just discovering my problems with depression and anxiety.
Don't particularly like the writing, but I love reading this to see how far I've come since then.
Kylie Jo Hushon Mar 2015
I forgot to fill my prescription.
How is it that I always forget something that makes such an impact on my life?
Without it, I am not myself.
or am I more myself?
Who is to say that depression and anxiety aren't characteristics as opposed to mental illness?

A chemical imbalance of the brain.
That's how the doctors describe it.
That's how we describe it,
To make ourselves feel less ashamed.

So I forgot to fill my prescription.
Sometimes I think I forget purposefully.
Is it possible to cautiously make a sub-consous choice?
Cause' I think I might.
I think I do it to make myself feel alive again.
**** being able to "function".
I don't see functioning as living.
I truly feel alive when I allow myself to indulge in the pain.

Treating the emotional agony as something that I shouldn't feel, only makes me feel more ashamed of it.

So instead I indulge.
I don't cry.
I don't cut.
I don't expose.
I indulge in my inner sadness.

It makes me feel like a rebel.
Indulging makes me feel more alive than the actual act of living.
And that terrifies me.

I terrify me.

— The End —