First draft
What's the use of dreaming
Dreams of rosy hue?
When all I'll ever see is you
Dreaming of hours spent by your side
Reliving our moments, in summer
What's the use of dreaming?
Dreams that never will come true
When we walked upon the rocks
And built our castles in the air
Only to see them come crashing down
What's the use of dreaming?
If our dreams will
Never come true?
Shitty stream of thought
With eyes to pained to close
With a mind screaming to loud to sleep
With a body too heavy to move
And a brain too burdened to think
48 hours
And it seems like we will make it 72
Life has become a fog
Once I held her hand
And she said mine warmed hers
Look at them now
Shaken and icy
Are they even mine?
It could go two ways
I lay here
The bed to high a wall to climb
So I lay here
Beside it
Of course it doesnt matter anyway
Do I have a body?
If so I cannot feel it
My mind is too loud
Stay here
Overcome with a brain both dead and yet somehow able to scream
To live as contradiction
Too loud
Too numb
Too sad
Too empty
Too lonely
Too worthless
Or maybe I could rise
Stand and see that face
See her staring back at me
Staring with his eyes
Only his never were smeared in mascara
See that the empty ugly thing inside my brain
Is not limited to inside
Now that they've gone the mask is too
The girl who laughed and smiled
Has left and now I see
What I really am
Hated unwanted ugly pathetic
Stare into his eyes and cry
Scream to the sky
Is this existence?
For I feel everything and yet nothing
Just need sleep
But sleep is too blessed a respite
For this tortured soul
Life must leave me with my brain
Immobile and unable to fight
Unable to hide from what is real
God but how can I live?
Live because death is worse
Laugh because tears make them worry
Or do they?
Remember now
Tis just a burden to cry
Don't do that to them
In fact
It would be best
If you just left altogether
The mask is shattering
Just go away
Just go and hide
Don't make them see
Don't force them to fix that which
Cannot be fixed
Don't let them look upon
That thing you hold inside
It's not like they'd care anyway
To my best friend
My psyche is a manifesto
Of a million little things
An open manuscript full of
All the times I've been told "I love you"
But also of all the times I've been told
"You are worthless"
It contains a million happy songs
But for every nice song, there is a sad one
Or two
Across its pages it it written
"This is girl is strong"
"This girl is funny"
"This girl is important"
But all that's in a cursive script which is oh so small
And powerless
Compared to these thick black letters stamped in my head by an iron hand
"Worthless"
"Die bitch"
"You failed"
"You are a failure"
You see, the human mind goes to the biggest words first
The words which those we trusted forced upon us with inexorable power
But it is so naive to say size is power
Because has you seen the little girl with the heart of flowers? A single kind word and smile from her can make you want to live again
Because have you seen the dog at your feet?
Small but meaning the world
Why should I think size is what matters?
Those words in my head are wrong
Because that girl of flowers wrote so gently on those creamy pages
A pen of lilac and green
Saying she loves me
Saying she cares
Saying I matter
Saying I am loved
Story of my life
She texts me
"How are you?"
Last night was tough
Ended in my tears in a corner
Pushing them all away
I've been in bed two hours, trying to find a reason to get up
Even a reason to keep going
Ignore her for an hour
Lay here too numb to cry
Finally get up and grab my phone
And of course the knife too
Dig the knife into my leg as I type
"Yeah all better, just had a bad day"
Wouldn't ever let her know
How much worse it is than she thinks
Would never let her know that she is the only one keeping me here
Imagining the look on her face when she's told
When she sees me in a coffin
That's all that's keeping me here
Seven marks
Seven bloody slashes and I think I can do it
Bandage up the wounds
Put the knife away
Turn on the Christmas music and dry my eyes
Dance around the house as I clean
The mask is perfect, no one will ever know
That the dance is a red herring
The smile a mask
These jeans hide the pain I feel
Behind my eyes
God?
Always telling myself to get through
Because at the end it will all work out
After however many years of hell
After a lifetime of tears and pain
I will make it to somewhere happy
I will make it and I will have a father again
Something I have lacked my whole life
A father who will hold me and tell me
It's all going to be okay
A father who can see me take my first steps
And feels pride
A father to whom I will show my colorings
That he will hang upon his wall
I will spin in the living room
In my prom dress
And he will have tears in his eyes as he calls me his princess
And walks me to the door where she stands
Ready to take me out
I will have the father I always wanted
But never was here
He's waiting for me up there
He who made me, shall then support me
But does God accept the broken?
For that is what I am
Will I step upon heaven's veranda
Only to be told it's too late
Too late to save a shattered soul
Will I be left pounding on the gates of heaven?
Left to those selfsame demons who live in my mind
Forsaken by the hope which I've held
Abandoned by another father
Because I will never be good enough
PSA
Listen, depression isn't romantic, it isn't cute, it isn't any of the things you see it romanticized as.
It's not crying into your boyfriends shoulder as he holds you and tells you it's okay.
It's not him seeing the scars and kissing them and telling you he loves you.
It's not looking pretty and biting your lip as you hold back tears.
Depression is standing in your bathroom, hair a disaster, and not one of those fake "I'm a mess but I still look hot" kind of disasters, full on Bigfoot kinda mess. It's standing there after you get home, teeth clenched on a towel in an attempt to muffle the sobs coming out of you that just won't stop. Standing there with your makeup messed up, mascara clumped on your eyelashes and smudged all over your face. Lipstick smeared and on your teeth. You're ignoring all the text messages from your friends because you honestly believe they hate you and would be better off without you. You take out a knife and start running it over your thighs. At the beginning you feel horrible guilt, the thoughts get stronger, telling you that you're just asking for attention, even though no one will ever see these. But as the blood starts coming you feel the pain go away, the pain in your mind, the thoughts battering you to pieces have quieted. This is the only time you can feel peace.
Depression is going to school every morning, it's having a lump in your throat on the bus ride there, wishing you could cry but unable to. It's getting to school and seeing all your friends laughing and happy, and Turing around and walking away because you know you won't be able to fake the happy they feel, and you don't want to ruin their day. It's never telling them about the thoughts which are almost omnipresent, thoughts about death and about your funeral, how in your head it's empty and desolate, not a soul cared about you even in death. They'll never hear about the slashes in your thighs or the demons in your head because if you try to explain the voices they just worry and never understand.
It's sitting in class and feeling the tears you couldn't cry on the bus well up, unable to stop them you ask
"Est-que je peux aller ou toilette?"
You rush to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall as the tears come, you hide there for much too long, beating yourself up over the class you're missing. When you finally come out you wash your face and plaster the fake smile back on, so no one can tell.
There is so much more, so many more thoughts, many more instances, but these must suffice. I just wish we could stop treating depression as trendy and cute.
Pneumonia kills, but I don't see it trending
Depression does the same, but all I see are emo kid memes and girls on tumblr posting pics of scars with so called "artsy captions"
The parents of the depressed tell us to deal
The teachers say we aren't trying enough
Please, please I beg of you, this is not a pretty picture I paint, but it must be shown, because we are dying, or we are living in hell and I just can't keep going alone.
Let out the pain
This isn't pretty
This won't rhyme
This is not poetry
This is just another attempt to feel happy
No not even that
It's another way to try to stay kicking
Find a way to let the bad out
My own doubt
I'll never be valid
I'll never be accepted
Not gay enough for gay
Not straight enough for straight
Just confused and excluded
From everyone
I'll never be loved
Never be cared about
Because in my head the voices tell me
They tell they all hate me
What's the use in being with my friends?
If I know they secretly all despise me
Idiot
Mean
Bitch
Overly emotional
Psychopathic
Uncaring
Insensitive
Unimportant
Useless
Over sensitive
This is just what I am today, yesterday, and the days before that.
God only knows if it will ever go away
Fear long gone but never forgotten
Look in the mirror
Look at it and see
These lips are delicate enough
This skin clear
I find no marring or imperfect
In this lovely appearance
Yet sometimes I look and I see
His eyes staring back at me
I see them pierce into my soul
Cry out, because I thought I would see them no more
Please god, I beg of you
Just let me rip them out
Don't make me see his face again
Don't make me see his eyes
False tears streaming down
Don't let me see the guilt he forced into me
For a sin which never was committed
Please god, now these tears are streaming down
Makes me think that
Every time I cry to them
Maybe I'm just doing the same
Please god, never make me see
That fierce hot anger
The anger and rage hidden behind
A mask of insanity
Please god, I don't want to be
Back there standing tall
As he approaches me with fists balled tight
Because I know I cannot stand
A chance against him in this fight
I stand tall to say
You will never beat me, I stand here
As you swing your blows
Blows of flesh, blows of guilt
Please dear, dear god
I don't want to see him
But it is this I fear
I wonder how long it will be
Before I look at her
The way he looked at me
I’m so sorry
To back
To tell the bright eyed child
With messy bangs
Tell her to hold on to happy
It hasn't turned out the way she thought
Today we strive for joy
Not art
She thinks it's given
To wake up carefree
To wish to get out of bed
To leave her house with a smile
She would never guess that
Everyday I open my eyes
And question if it's worth continuing
She asks me now, with hope in her eyes
Where are the wonderful things she planned?
All the things she hoped to achieve?
All the people she wanted to know?
I tell her gently
Honey it didn't work out that way
Today we strive for continued existence
Not all those far flung ideals
To that little girl
Stay happy
Because one day
I'm not sure when
It all goes away
Moi cœr
Put my heart in a bottle and sent it off to see
If maybe just maybe it could find its way
To that one wild pirate at sea
Bobbing up against the side of her ship
Let it sing to her
That I am here on this desert island
Clinging on to hope
Tie a note around the cork
"If found please return
Because I only sent it out
To see if you could learn
To love me the way I love you"
Hoping to see the sails on the horizon
Saying she saw
She cared
She came
Please save me from this island
All the trees and all the stars
They make me think of you
Because no matter how many monsters
Lurk in the branches
Among the clouds
I could stop running from them
Sit and enjoy the view
If only she were here
To fight them off first