Have you ever wanted to scream,
To yell,
To shout,
Until you couldn’t say another word?

Have you ever wanted to speak your mind,
Your opinions,
Your heart,
Although no one would listen?

When you wanted speak,
To utter,
To whisper,
Just to hear reassurance.

Instead you are quite.
Not a whisper,
Not a word,
But they wouldn’t know.

But it’s just your mind,
A thousand words,
A thousand pictures,
A thousand stories.

Or how your home,
Lost it meaning.
Or how your touch,
Lost it’s feeling.

But no one ever tells you,
In the darkest of night,
That when the world is silent,
Only the loudest,
Are the screams of the forgotten.
Sick.
Cough.
Sneeze.
Groan.
Sick.
My sick is different.
My sick follows me like a dark cloud every second of every day.
My sick stalks me like a lion, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Sick.
My joints ache as I walk, but I keep walking.
My stomach burns as I eat, but I keep eating.
My insides scream as I smile, but I keep smiling.
Sick.
I keep the sick hidden under a smile.
I accept it as my best friend and worst enemy.
I have learned to be tough so I won’t become my sick.
Sick.
I wrote a poem about my chronic illness (Sjögren’s syndrome) a few days ago and it felt fitting to post it today because I’m getting an infusion today woohoo!!
When you hear my name,
What do you think?

Do you think of my parents,
Or the marks on my arms?
Do you notice my distance,
Or the darkness that harms?

When you see my smile,
Are you fooled?

Do you see my grin,
Or how it doesn’t reach my eyes?
Do you hear my laugh,
Or how it lies?

When you see the cuts on my arms,
Can you see the scars?

Do you watch what you say,
Or do you not notice my discomfort?
Do you see my begging,
Or do you push it off as needy?

Most do not notice,
When it finally outbursts,
Communication is always to blame.

Many can read lips,
But can not see the signs.
However those who are not blind,
Are few that can read my mind.
With mental illness sometimes it can be very difficult to express the issues we are facing. When people see me I think of what could be going through their minds. Are they thinking of my parents that are deceased, or how I am covered in scars. However there are some who can relate and can see the signs of illness. Though not everyone understands it, mental illness exist. I hope one day more people won't have to face the troubles some do now.
sara 2d
He always wrapped up
when he went outside.
Buttons up to the top,
scarf wrapped around twice.

Hat pulled down tight
with his earmuffs on,
skin windswept white,
all sunny summer long.
Trying to explore the loneliness that comes with mental illness
.
family matters
Casey 4d
She contemplated waking up before the rain
In the hopes of feeling something--
Something other than dreary dreadful dread.
Maybe that sounds childish
And maybe, just maybe, that's okay.
"Everyone wants to be a little anorexic" she says
"You know, like, in a glamorous way, like fashion friendly anorexic"
I bite my cheek and nod, pretend to agree
All I can think of is waking up to stars dancing on the ceiling
Pale skin with bruises of unknown origins
And battered feet on and off the scale
Almonds in Ziploc baggies
Bite marks on fingers
Hair down the drain
Measuring crunches by the marks they leave on your spine
And battered feet on and off the scale
Enough water to turn organs into boats
Eating an apple with a fork and knife
Desperate hands grasping for ribs
And battered feet on and off the scale
Standing and the world going dark
Coughing around shots of apple cider vinegar
Carrying an emergency rice cake for weak spells
And battered feet on and off the scale
Enough green tea to drown organs
Sugar free gum to mask the smell of decaying organs
Whatever nail polish covers yellow and purple
And battered feet on and off the scale
How many calories are in toothpaste
Thinspo blogs
Pillows squeezed between thighs
And battered feet on and off the scale
Is today the day my heart gives out
Waking every day in a new body
Fingers clasped around wrists
And battered feet on and off the scale
Notebooks filled with numbers
Purple crescents under eyes
Fingers clasped around forearms
And battered feet on and off the scale
Elbows knocking into hipbones
Being scared of your own reflection
Lies to get out of dinner
And battered feet on and off the scale
The stench of vomit
Oxygen that tastes of splenda
Fingers clasped around biceps
And bleeding feet on and off the scale

If this is your idea of glamour
Then you can have it
How can you not hear it?
My heart,
Racing.
My mind,
Screaming.
I can’t hear anything else.

It comes from nowhere,
And everywhere.

It begins with the slight shaking.
Hiding my hands,
In hopes no one notices.

Breathing becomes irregular.
Take deep breaths,
Yet it comes out so shaky.

A smile stays plastered on my face.
Everything will be alright?
It won’t

Quickly to excuse self from the area,
Hoping no one will notice.
Keep the smile,
Hide the fear,
No one can see you break.

The room is quiet,
Mind definitely isn't.
But it's going to be okay?
Right?

Never know for sure,
Can't focus,
Too much shaking,
Screaming,
Racing,
Yet the room is so quiet.

Words are coming,
Too fast.
They're never good.

Vision blurry,
Mind screaming,
Hands shaking,
Heart racing.

someone’s coming

Breath hitches,
Hands hide,
Can’t let them know,
How broken it is inside.

They ignore the signs,
The fear,
The hiding,
They never notice.

After time,
Mind whispers,
Hands steady,
Heart rest.

It’s over,
But never know for how long,
For now it doesn’t matter.

Smile returns,
Finally return back to group,
No one notices the absence.
They never do.
This poem is about panic/anxiety attacks
In my body

where it dwells, 

dark and foggy

no one knows

It escapes;

as salty drops

All controlling

will it stop?

In my body,

there’s someone else

Deep inside -

I hate myself

To this master

I bow down

This disaster,

forever bound

This broken body

one day I’ll leave

My own hand?

Time will see...
Chloe May 14
Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.
DISCLAIMER: This is only from my personal point of view and how my battle with depression has been. Even though I am trying to recover, the battle gets very difficult for me sometimes and I have to remind myself that I am not my mental illness. My mental illness does not define me.
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