DEPRESSION IS REAL.
depression is not being sad. depression is gray-tinted glasses that affect how you see the world, depression turns your emotions from stone to glass, you never knew the meaning of "emotionally unstable" until someone drops you half of a foot and you shatter. until someone cancels on you and somehow you find yourself sobbing in your room because the demons in your head tell you that nobody ******* cares about you, nobody ******* cares about you, nobody ******* cares about you.
depression is real. i can feel it in my chest and on my eyelids and in my head and i can even feel it's iron death grip on my throat.
some days i swore to God there was a four-ton elephant sitting pretty on my chest, but i was the only one who could see it. some days there were five-pound weights hanging from my eyelids and the only way to keep myself awake was to pump myself so full of caffeine that my hands shook while my eyes were still tired, making me exhausted and anxious and hyperactive all at once. some days it took hold of my head, squeezing my eyes so that my reflection was warped and twisted and grotesque, whispering into my ears that i needed to eat less. you need to eat less. some days it attacked my heart. i can not describe the sensation better than to say that some days it felt like my aortas were being beaten by dull wooden stakes or like my blood had been replaced with icewater.
you're sitting in class enjoying a captivating psychology lecture when that thought pops in your head: "why are you even alive?" and your blood freezes, your ribs tighten, and something grabs hold of your windpipe so that all you can do to not say "i want to die" when the teacher calls on you is shake your head and say "i don't know."
you're sitting in math class and you're supposed to be learning about integrals but all you can think about is everyone's reactions if you didn't wake up the next day; you're sick but all you notice is that no one noticed you were gone. maybe no one would notice if you were gone.

one year, food was all that could make me feel happy; i found hope in the dopamine rush from the sugary calories; i rejoiced at the satisfactory feeling i got from devouring half of a pan of brownies.
the next year, yes, i know i have always loved dark chocolate but today i just can't seem to taste it. or anything for that matter.
the only thing i could get myself to ingest were liquids that would take my memories away for a while. i had no problem pouring cheap caramel apple ***** down my throat but could not get myself to pick up a golden delicious and bite into it because i knew i wouldn't have be able to finish it anyway.

depression is real. depression is a ****** up monster that leaves no part of you untouched and can steal the very essence of who you are if you let it. depression can ******* rip you apart. someone will tell you that they love you and all you will be able to say in return is "no you don't."
depression takes away who you are. because you haven't always cried every day, you haven't always been unable to eat, you used to be able to stomach an "i love you" and you used to smile when you saw your little sister.
this is not you, this is depression, depression is real. you are not pretending, you are not 'not trying', you are not 'broken'; honey all you have are some unbalanced chemicals in your brain. but we're going to try as hard as we can to make them go back to normal. i know you're in there.

depression is real. but so are you.

i hope my shadow follows you through the rooms of your house
i hope my perfume lingers in your bedsheets and my naked body lingers in your mind
i hope that when you look at your backyard, that all you can see is the red hammock that we broke
and we laughed and laughed
i hope you sit in your living room and remember when i counted the fourteen fake candles. i hope you count them and find fourteen and remember when we kissed on the floor
i hope that blonde hairs litter your possessions. i hope that you find them on your clothes, in your car, in your room, for months after i've left
i don't want to be so easy to get rid of.
i hope my voice has stained all your family photos so that all you can see when you look at them is how cute i thought you were
i hope that the sight of your empty passenger seat physically pains you and i hope that every day you feel as if something important is missing
and i hope that that something important is me  
i hope your lips burn bitter with my aftertaste and your hands grow lonely just like your friday nights without me

i want you to miss me
even if you won't

It's near impossible to pinpoint the exact moment you died inside. It's even harder telling your parents that it's not the boy making you crazy but the malicious voice in your head telling you, you're not good enough. You will never be good enough. And what's most difficult is trying to explain to them that he makes you feel whole inside and like you're not damaged goods. He drags you out of No Man's Land where there's nothing but your demons hiding around every corner, waiting to attack. To tell you you're not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough. The ones who make it hard to get out of bed in the morning. You're not good enough. They stole your happiness long before you noticed it was gone. You're not good enough. They lured you into that back alley and robbed you of your soul. You're not good enough. So someone please tell me, how do I tell you that the lights left my eyes long before he came along?

The person I wish I could be is loved. She is capable of accepting love and she is capable of loving in return, even when she believes that she does not deserve a single glance in her direction. The person I want to be is able to hear the words I love you without turning cold and shutting that poor boy out.
For the person I am believes that to love is to destroy, if there is even such a thing as love. Because when the person I was thought she found love, it only betrayed her. He left bruises on her skin, dark half moons under her eyes, and her sanity cowering in a caliginous corner. He always made everything her fault, her mistake, her problem. And at the end of it all, she ended up on a street corner at three in the morning crying, wondering how in hell broken bones and blood-shot eyes could ever be thought of as love. But, the person I am now is smarter and a fighter.
The person I wish to be is not only a fighter, but she's a warrior. A warrior who finds strength in her weaknesses. A woman who knows that all of those sleepless nights spent at the bottom of a bottle were not a waste because it taught her that it is cruel out in the world but she is still here, living. The person I will be is strong enough to endure.

the next time you say
"no one loves me",
remember how its like to have a fever
don't reach the glass of water your throat is thirsting for
close your eyes for a little bit
and see your body for what it is
it is a warzone
and it is fighting to keep you alive
because it loves you
it doesn't know what you are
who you are
what you have done
but with every cut you etch across your skin
as if you are trying to erase your mistake
it heals you as if it is
trying to tell you
you are worth it
you
are
worth it
even if you don't think you are
even if everyone else doesn't think you are

so if you are looking for unconditional love,
reach for that glass of water - clench your thirst
pull that blanket over yourself
sleep knowing that your body loves you, even if you don't love you
tomorrow,
everything will be okay
hold on a little bit.

I.
Nakilala ka dahil sa isang kaibigan,
Di nagtagal, tayo'y nagkamabutihan.
Walang araw na hindi nagkakausap,
Tuwing nagmemensahe ka ako'y parang nasa ulap.

II.
Nakilala pa natin ang isa't-isa.
Tandang-tanda ko pa nung una tayong magkita,
Hindi ko maalis sayo aking mga mata,
Pero ramdam ko ika'y sakin ay ilang pa.

III.
Unang larawan na tayo'y magkasama,
Proud na proud ko pang ipinakita sa tropa.
Ako na ata ang pinaka-masaya nung araw na 'yun,
Dinarasal na sana parati nalang ganun.

III.
Nagpatuloy ang ating palitan ng matatamis na salita,
Pero kada-araw na lumilipas na araw, tila ika'y nanlalamig ata.
Hinayaan ko, kahit na hulog na hulog na ako sa'yo.
Sabi ko sa sarili ko: "Wala kang karapatan mag-tampo dahil di naman kayo."

IV.
Nagsawa na ako sa ganoong estado kaya't nagtanong ako ulit:
"Ano ba ang meron tayo? Kasi mahal kita, eh ako ba?"
Hindi ka umimik, nagpumilit kang ibahin ang usapan.
Tinanong ko ulit ang aking sarili kung; "Itutuloy ko pa ba ang laban?"

V.
"Hindi kita kayang mahalin gaya ng pagmamahal mo sa akin."
Ang ganda ng umaga ito, tapos ganito ang bungad mo?
"Bakit ano ang dahilan, gusto kong maliwanagan?" Tanong ko.
"Gusto na niya makipagbalikan. Patawarin mo ako."

VI.
Halos gumuho ang mundo ko sa nabasa ko.
Para akong natutulog ng mahimbing, tapos binuhusan ng yelo.
Alam ko namang hahantong sa ganito,
Buti na lamang handa ako, pero di ko akalain bakit sa araw pa na 'to?

VII.
Masyado akong nagpadala sa mga ngiti mo,
Hinahanap-hanap ko pa presensya mo,
Hulog na hulog na ako, kasi akala ko kaya mo ako.
May kalakihan ako, pero sana nagsabi kang hindi mo ako kayang masalo.

VIII.
Ikaw ang bumuo sa mga araw ko,
Pero ikaw rin pala ang wawasak nito.
Lumaban ako--kasi akala ko kaya mo rin akong ipaglaban,
Pero mas piniling **** balikan yung taong minsan ka nang iniwan.