#diagnose - Hello Poetry

I said: “I think I have ADHD.” They answered: “No, you’re just a ****** Get a job.” So I ran. In circles. Around a reality that never gave me room to breathe— just fingers pointed and ******** advice. They didn’t see the war in my head, just the pupils. They didn’t hear the silence in me, just the noise I made. I asked for help— they handed me judgment. I reached out— they recoiled, like I carried plague and guilt in my veins. And then— years later, when everything’s burned, when I wear my diagnosis like scars and proof, they show up. With a box. “Here’s Ritalin. It’ll help.” Ritalin. Legal speed. The same thing they hated me for chasing now handed over wrapped in plastic and prescription smiles. What the **** happened? Was it the label that made me worthy? The paperwork that made my scream real? I was never chasing a high. I was chasing peace. I was never after drugs. I just wanted to understand why my mind never shut up. But there was no room for that. Not then. Not until now. Now that the system sees what I’ve been screaming the whole **** time.

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Jul 2, 2025

Jul 2, 2025 at 8:44 AM UTC

Vazago

Label

I said: “I think I have ADHD.” They answered: “No, you’re just a ****** Get a job.” So I ran. In circles. Around a reality that never gave me room to breathe— just fingers pointed and ******** advice. They didn’t see the war in my head, just the pupils. They didn’t hear the silence in me, just the noise I made. I asked for help— they handed me judgment. I reached out— they recoiled, like I carried plague and guilt in my veins. And then— years later, when everything’s burned, when I wear my diagnosis like scars and proof, they show up. With a box. “Here’s Ritalin. It’ll help.” Ritalin. Legal speed. The same thing they hated me for chasing now handed over wrapped in plastic and prescription smiles. What the **** happened? Was it the label that made me worthy? The paperwork that made my scream real? I was never chasing a high. I was chasing peace. I was never after drugs. I just wanted to understand why my mind never shut up. But there was no room for that. Not then. Not until now. Now that the system sees what I’ve been screaming the whole **** time.

46

i want to write but the words aren't coming i'm feeling trapped by my mind's inability to translate my emotions to letters with meaning i write to understand why i feel the way i do i am the doctor of my own thoughts but if i cannot write then i cannot understand & if i cannot understand then i cannot diagnose so here i sit with the same confusion i began with some words written before me as useless as they come accomplishing nothing begging for everything

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Feb 21, 2019

Feb 21, 2019 at 10:39 AM UTC

KoraSani

this poem won't help you

i want to write but the words aren't coming i'm feeling trapped by my mind's inability to translate my emotions to letters with meaning i write to understand why i feel the way i do i am the doctor of my own thoughts but if i cannot write then i cannot understand & if i cannot understand then i cannot diagnose so here i sit with the same confusion i began with some words written before me as useless as they come accomplishing nothing begging for everything

21

This might sound asinine but diagnose me. I know there's no cure, yet there has to be something you could prescribe to sooth this disease. Make me your human project. Save me from turning inside out. I'm on my knees with my hands on my head. I can feel my thoughts itching under my skin. I'm scratching my temple down to my skull. My fingers are breaking bone by bone. I don't believe in hell but if I did. I swear, If I could give it my own redefinition, this life would be it.

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Jun 27, 2016

Jun 27, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC

BaezJo

Diagnose

This might sound asinine but diagnose me. I know there's no cure, yet there has to be something you could prescribe to sooth this disease. Make me your human project. Save me from turning inside out. I'm on my knees with my hands on my head. I can feel my thoughts itching under my skin. I'm scratching my temple down to my skull. My fingers are breaking bone by bone. I don't believe in hell but if I did. I swear, If I could give it my own redefinition, this life would be it.

13

Sometime I wish That someone would just Diagnose me. With depression Or Anxiety Or The like. Instead of just feeling it Inside, I would have a word to put to it. A word I knew That other people shared. Maybe then I wouldn't feel So alone. And maybe then It wouldn't be wrong That I feel so wrong. And maybe then I wouldn't feel bad About feeling bad All the time. Please someone Diagnose me. So that I can have a reason For feeling This way.

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Dec 1, 2015

Dec 1, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC

roots-buds-flowers

Diagnose me.

Sometime I wish That someone would just Diagnose me. With depression Or Anxiety Or The like. Instead of just feeling it Inside, I would have a word to put to it. A word I knew That other people shared. Maybe then I wouldn't feel So alone. And maybe then It wouldn't be wrong That I feel so wrong. And maybe then I wouldn't feel bad About feeling bad All the time. Please someone Diagnose me. So that I can have a reason For feeling This way.

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