Laura 14h
People tend to think it's an act
When you want to kill yourself
And it kind of is
You have to put on an act every day
In order to get through basic shit
Social interactions,
It's all an act
But you still want to die
That part most definitely isn't an act
That's the most real part of you
The deadest part inside
Is what's keeping you alive

The attention seeking whore
Seeks attention
Because they wonder if anyone actually gives a damn
Or if everyone else is putting on an act, too
Because if all the world's a stage,
And we're all just acting,
Then why not kill off some characters
Shakespeare got rid of Romeo and Juliet
And they were still famous
They were still the stars
And if you can be the star
But still be dead
Then why keep on living
When you're already dead inside
Anchored down by feelings
I just can't let out
Always making wrong decisions
Decisive at the worst times
I've been pulled so fucking deep now
I can't even see the light
Stuck in some kind of limbo
Because I refuse to die
Trying to find peace living in the present
Rather than living in my mind
Because in reality I can defeat a old demon bearing a new disguise
Rise up adolescent
And start to overcome
The burdens and hardships
Adults stand upon

Society strives to forget you
By paving a path to obsolescence
It fails to see the potential
Within your naive, yet growing luminescence

Take heed young one
Let nothing diminish your roar
The world may not be aware yet
However, it needs for you to soar
Teach them well...Hope is something that dwells within us all. While it lies dormant in some, it's innately abundant in our children!
I wish someone told me,

Love is not putting your  pleasure before my  protection
Love is not believing my body is your toy
Love is not being forced into anything I don't want to do

Because I lifted my shirt in an attempt to heal your broken mind
I silenced myself, my voice, my protests for your apology

Yet You held the gun to your  head
Made me believe I was the one
who made you feel as though you were better off dead

I'm still scared to look at my phone at night
Because of the chance the ringing is another suicide call

“Why did you break up with me,
You said you loved me,
If you hang up ill kill myself”

You were a disease
plagued by your own mind and  fixation
Tell my why did I have to be your victim!?
never drink from the same cup as someone who is sick
but dear you still pressed your lips against mine and swallowed my sadness
now you caught my disease
folie à deaux; the shared disillusionment of two
do you miss your sanity?
Shona 3d
I found my self worth buried deep
underneath the core of the problem.
Sulking and wilting in the garden
of his spoken words.
Cruel and unkind surrounding every colour
and every path,
Dripping from every petal and every leaf
to the last
placement of where I no longer seek to be.

I found validation from myself,
Not within the stares from you or
the apparent love from him.
His words are still plastered into my brain
and my insecurity is still worse off,
But I found peace and contentment.
I found optimism and care,
Radiated through my surroundings.

I found that I deserved more than to be
cheated and hurt,
Emotionally distraught to humiliation and
bleeding in bedding.
Suffocation from the sheets and I couldn't sleep.
Now I've found acceptance.
And I can move on.

                                    — validation.
Shona 4d
“You’ve made me feel like shit, again,” I say
to myself mentally,
Aiming it more so towards my anxiety
Yet again.
Another snooping situation, mixed into the
incapability of walking away.

I can’t leave things alone.
My mind wishes to know every ounce of
detail but I, personally, don’t really care.
I want to write, sleep and live freely
without a form of worry blanketing me and
stopping me from breathing in deeply to
calm down.

However I let it do what it pleases,
regardless of whether I’m stuck with a
depressed feeling and sorrowful tune
surrounding me.
I tell myself, “You just have to ride through
it.” And for the first time, it’s easy,
But after that it becomes tiresome and
boring and all you want is for the feeling
to go away.
I am the only person who can make it go
away, but I can’t.
I hold onto it unintentionally, as if a part of
me will disintegrate if I let go.
And so we fall into a never ending cycle of
my anxiety,
Where I ask myself continuously “When will
it end?”
And my mind tells me it’s not entirely sure
but that I should be grateful for what it’s
giving me.
That it’s giving me safety and
cautiousness, helping me not to be
percieved as too naive.
But I don’t care for that much anymore.

So instead of ridding of my anxiety,
I’m always ridding of those who
unintentionally and unawarely have
created it for me.
It’s easier to be rid of you physically than
of something within my own mind.
abeille 4d
Mental illness not a romantic tale about a princess in a dark tower
The one who gets rescued by a knight in shining armor
In the story you might feel more like the huntsman
Who never sleeps in fear that something might pass him if he does
Or maybe you’re more like Sleeping Beauty minus the beauty and the prince
Who never stops sleeping but when she wakes she’s still exhausted
Maybe you’re the witch
Who fears other might take her only friend away so she locks them in a tower for eternity
Maybe you’re the heroes who can rescue everyone
Well everyone except themselves
Or perhaps you’re just a simple peasant, as most are
With no role to play in the story
“Would the author care if I were gone?”
It’s a question you ask yourself daily
This is the truth about mental illness
It’s not a fairytale that you get to romanticize
It’s reality that never ends
And it fucking sucks
- the Grimm Poet
A mug of camomile tea is best accompanied
By the gloam of a late summer's day and
The distant bleats of young sheep,
I find. Peace lies between
Two silhouetted trees, black
Against a blueish sky.
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