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Jaycee Nov 2014
Tears,
Shatter.
The floor,
Cracks.

Against the splashes,
You hear them splat.
Your heart beats furiously.
The girls heart breaks.

She falls.
Eyes shut.
The hits,
Leave cuts.
Her smile,
Vanished.

Against her own will,
She lashes.
Screaming,
"Mother, no!"
Bella Jul 17
Sometimes I get stuck in this state of Darkness
where my eyes can see
but it's like my head is just pitch black
and I almost wish I couldn't see anything,
like I wish I could just curl myself into a ball so tightly that I disappear from space for a while

sometimes I get stuck in this space
and I feel like my tears and my thoughts
are climbing up my esophagus and clogging my throat
blocking my airway
suffocating me from the inside

maybe I never told you I was depressed because who wants to relive that moment
that choking hazard moment of cotton ***** in my throat

maybe I never told you I was depressed because there are no words I can use to describe it that don't transform themselves into their meanings
that don't take over my mind
crawl through my head like little worms
eating away at my brain
my thoughts
my skin

have you ever thought of a traumatic experience and then felt those events happening again
felt the dark hole of life-threatening-trauma attack your mind
Shiver through your body
like it was a demon you let in through a memory-
through a word

maybe I didn't tell you I was depressed
because I wasn't strong enough
my depression fills me to the brim
fills my head and my chest
my arms and my fingers
I can feel it moving through my body
I can feel it expanding and engulfing everything inside of me
every last vein, nerve, *****, and tissue
how can you expect me to have the energy to fight
how can you expect me to have the energy to pick up the phone
to open my mouth
how can you expect me to have energy-to have the courage to utter the words of how I feel
I feel so worthless
in those moments I feel like there's this black whole inside me and it's consuming everything
it's taking everything but my skin
and it disgusts me

can you imagine the feeling,
having something so utterly repulsive on your skin you had to scrape it off immediately
It felt like you needed to be cleansed
like you needed a shower
take that feeling
now imagine it being under your skin
imagine, every muscle ***** vein nerve every cell in your body underneath your epidermis disgusts you
imagine all you wanted to do was to
GET
IT
OFF
and you can't
no matter how hard you try
you can't scrape it off
you can't claw It off

imagine you're scared of spiders
now imagine you're covered in spiders
and someone's holding down your arms
so you can't get them off
imagine them walking on your skin
in your mouth
crawling on your open eyes
in your ears
you're cringing at your own skin
You can feel them going down your throat
Their disgusting tickle in your stomach
in every crevice of your body
their tunneling under your skin
and you can't get them off
what are you supposed to do
but cry
My best friend's mom who doesn't believe in depression asked why I never told her I was depressed...
Jaycee Nov 2014
The arguments are so agitating.
Why can't you just love me unconditionally?
Isn't that what we're supposed to do?
We are family, aren't we?
katryna Jul 31
May mga lugar tayo na mahirap sa atin ang balikan
Minsan malayo,
Minsan maulan,
Madalas walang oras.
Pero kailangan natin puntahan.

                 Ilan lang yan sa mga rason na mas gusto ko nalang isipin
                 Para madaling magdahilan.
                 Pero kapag puso ang tumawag,
                 Kalinga ang nangailangan
                 Pag unawa ang nais maging hantungan.

Iniisip ko,
Ano ba ang dahilan bakit mahirap balikan.
Binabalik ako sa katotohanang,
Wala na.

                                     Wala na ang tao sakin na madalas maghanap.
                                          Madalas mangamusta.
                                              Madalas­ magsabing magpataba ka.
      
                 Ang kahit kelan hindi ako tinuring na iba,
                 Kahit kailangan na.

                                          Marahil ito nga.

Dinadala ako sa ibang direksyon,
Sa ibang tahanan,
Sa tahananang walang ibang tao.
Sa tahanang hindi ko na maririnig ang tinig mo.
Hindi ko na mahahawakan ang malambot at mapagkalinga **** braso.
Wala na ang biro, tawa at masigla **** tinig na nagpapaingay ng paligid.

                                        Marahil ito nga,

Bumubungad sakin ang isang kahon ng alala
Na sa pag ihip na lang ng hangin ko maradarama.
At sa ganda na lang ng paglubog ng araw ko na lang makikita.

Ang mga tinago kong munting ala-ala
In loving memory of Mr. Wally Nocon, I know you know how much I miss you. Sana :) Nakakarating naman ung mga message ko diba?, sipag nga po ng messenger ko eh :)
I walked into a church today,
One I wanted to visit for days,
I passed by it, saw the huge doors open
Inviting me in daily, but I just didn’t go in.

I’m a Hindu by religion,
Indian by birth,
I have an older sister,
My mom and my dad obviously.

Why am I telling you this?
Well because I’m everything but
Happy, calm and sorted,
Just angry, irritated and anxious.

They fight, my mom and dad,
They love each other, or maybe they don’t,
But they fight and argue,
They don’t hold back on concern either.

They talk a lot, my sister and him,
The guy she’s seeing but not dating,
The guy she’s serious about but hasn’t met,
She’s always on the phone, sharing every bit of her life.

I entered the church,
Felt nothing, felt the same as usual,
No excitement, disappointment, nothing,
Temples don’t help either.

I love my family, they love me back,
They care and support me, a lot!
I don’t want it most of the times,
It both keeps me alive and suffocates me.

They are always there,
Standing right by me,
If not in person, then by spirit,
Always a call away.

I talk to them every day, thrice,
Twice at least, message my whereabouts,
It’s a habit, a want, a need
To let them know everything about me.

They are fighting now,
I got an email this time,
Not a phone call, nor message,
Mom lied, that she’s got her migraine.

Dad’s left the family WhatsApp group,
Blamed it on the work stress,
But I know better, we all do,
I may be the youngest, but I’m 20.

My sister’s fed up with me,
Well she’s not the only one,
I shout, scream, screech rudely,
Loudly, with no sane reason.

I know I need help,
We all do, for anger,
To love and feel loved,
But it’s never going to happen.

I am a psychology student,
I want to let the world know,
With my research that depression and anxiety,
Can’t be beat with medicines nor by expressing.

My sister’s a Human Rights student,
Who wants to help people,
Support and care for them,
You can’t, nothing will end human suffering.

We are the sole cause of it,
Human suffering, the ones with fuel,
The ones with the extinguisher,
Yet, each time we choose poorly.

My family is broken, ******* up,
It’s surviving on a thin string,
But it won’t break, ever,
We’ll all just drift apart.
Gemma Apr 7
A field
(Grass, mud, flowers, bugs)
One winter
(Hats, coats, scarves, gloves)
Was one of my favourite walks with you.
1,2,3,4 legs running full speed
Like they were designed to.
You were thirteen
and I know age is just a number but it means a bit more now there's something wrong.
Everyday your still mistaken for a puppy
but maybe it's because that's what age you are , forever, in my heart .
Who knew, cause I never did, that a dog could finally give a hectic family a meaning ?
Who knows , I don't know, whether when it happens I'll ever be able to pass the stage of grieving ?
You were always more than enough ,
more than a hug, a walk , a fuss
You are a part of the family
And you have served us love.
D Awanis Jul 21
Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whenever your heart feel at ease and be at peace
Home is whenever you go to places and in love with the streets
Home is whenever you listen to the music and jam to its rhythm

This two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place that shouldn't be burden off your shoulders
is a place that should you reminisce in joy instead of grief
is a place that should be a sanctuary rather than asylum

Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whose eyes were jet black with a heartbeat
Home is whose smirks feel like summer in winter days
Home is whose touch melts away even the toughest iceberg

"Well", you said, "this two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place where I hear more yelling than laughter
is a place where my dreams died and buried deep
is a place where I used to shamelessly call as home"
Jaycee Jan 2015
Am I allowed to miss you?
It seems that I'm really not.
I know everything now,
The things that you said,
That caused me to frown.
I often wonder if you even feel bad.
Do you know how many tears I had shed?
No, you don't.
It makes me feel somewhat ashamed,
How much I miss you.
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