I’m Fucking This Up

Lazy Piece Of Shit.
Unmotivated Sack Of Bones.
Worthless Whiney Bitch.
You wanted this.
This is the change that you manifested.
This is when you should be at your best.
But you had to go and get high instead.
Fucking Addict.
Habitual Fuck Up.
Undeserving Of Love.

You know this.
You see the evidence.
This is what you’re up against.
Embrace It.
Bold And Brave.
Willing To Take No Shit.
Never Complacent.
This is what you were born this.
Never Satisfied.
Always Striving.
Constantly Searching.
This is how you’ve made it.
Hard Working Survivor.
Constantly Flexible.
Destined For So Much More.
This is what you choose to believe in.
Don’t Lose Hope.
Look For The Silver Lining.
Learn How To Cope.
This is how you continue on.

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Breathe…

I lost track of what I wanted to say…
I am distracted by another point never completed…
My mind has no ambition these days…
It wanders and leads me to thoughts that are incomplete…
It deceives both you and me…
It thinks of these rhymes while I attempt to find something to actually care about this time…
I am tired of the complaints of which it speaks…
I wish that it would just move on from me…
I am the only one dragging myself down…
I am the only one who sees my own crippling doubt…
I am the only one who is privy to the secret that I have kept so desperately…
I will deliver my own self-defeat. This is all within my own control. This choice is up to me. This is my own self-deprecating form of deceit.
I am the person who is responsible for this, and yet I am the last one who will admit that this is something I struggle with.
It was once nameless.
It was once something that I was just born with.
It was once something that was supposed to mean so much more to me.
I was once a human being…
Until Depression overtook me.
Now I am just a mind that holds an infection.
Now I am waiting for someone else’s dictation to sever the bonds that I have been building with the monster that lives inside of me and takes every ounce of hopeful air I breathe.
It has overtaken me.
I am no longer distracted,
I am exhausted…
I am no longer exhausted,
I am indifferent…
I am no longer indifferent,
I am losing. I am losing this battle against a hopeful version of me. I am losing track of what I once meant. I am losing the sense to repent against these unjust thoughts and transgressions against me.
I was once so “carefree”.
I was once spoke with “honesty”.
I once “believed” that this “depression” is not a part of “me”.

I Want This Piece of Me to Be Missing

I am too tired.
I am too tired to do all of this.
I am too tired to carry on.
I can’t.
I can’t seem to stop for even a moment before I have to move on.
I can’t seem to stop over thinking everything.
I won’t move on.
I won’t do what I know is better for me.
I won’t go on to living the dreams that I had.
I don’t have enough.
I don’t have the talent or the teachings.
I don’t have the raw elements of success.
I shouldn’t be this way.
I shouldn’t wake up and already feel the pressure crushing in.
I shouldn’t indulge in these vices that are killing me.
I have no strength.
I have no plan to resolve what is frustrating me.
I have no desire to move on from where I wallow.
I am depressed.
I am not me.
I am not the person I could prove to be.
I am in a shell of existence.
I could care less.
I could fully commit to losing everything.
I could submit to my final defeat.
I could end this reality.
I could save myself.
I am indifferent to hope and positivity.
I am content with my negativity.
I am blind to all possibility.
I want to sink even lower.
I want to explore this depression and see what it is worth.
I want to satisfy my sick desire to have no hope.
I want to get better.
I try to heal.
I try to not listen to myself.
I try to convince myself to move.
I try.
I fail.
I sink even lower into this despair.
I fall fast.
I lose my breath.
I completely forget who I am.
I forget to eat.
I have trouble sleeping.
I doubt everything.
I focus only on the negative.
I clench my jaw.
I speak words that I regret.
I hide in my own head.
I am me.
I struggle with depression.
And I know this will never end.

Seeing Life Through Black Colored Glasses

I’ve had to relearn how to live,
That’s what I was given with the gift of depression.
I had to recognize that I am not whole,
And I had to learn from what I’ve been through before.
I learned that I have faults and weaknesses,
And that I seem to struggle with the simple things.
That getting out of bed is a battle instead,
Of being the opportunity I wished I saw.
That the ability to speak is something I once did not reach,
When I was too busy grinding my teeth.
That social interactions are a cause for reaction,
In the form of sweat and anxiety and a wish to retreat.
That eating was an evil necessity,
And I wished that it was not needed regularly.
That hope is something I crave,
But also something I haven’t seen in many days.
I had to relearn how to be awake,
And that there are mistakes I might make.
I had to teach myself how to speak,
Despite the constant worry that I keep,
Telling me that I should first think,
Through every possibility and all that I could be,
Before I decide what to see.
I had to grow in ways that I had previously denied,
And I had to prove to myself that I am willing to try,
To save this mind from the infecting thoughts that are unkind.
I had to learn to be positive,
Since it was not my first reflexive,
Reaction to the trials I endure,
And the person I ensure,
Myself to be,
In this fucked up version of reality.

I Needed You To See Me

Thank you for listening,
But you seemed to be missing the point,
Where I no longer wanted to speak of my troubles,
And right now I do not want to seek a rebuttal.
I have always struggled with this,
And this is not the first time I have caved to blackness.
I have always been depressed,
But now you will not allow that piece of me to rest.
You want to discuss the feelings that I cannot trust,
And you want to heal the wounds I so honestly display,
But that is not the reaction I was seeking when I said,
That I have been spending too much time inside my own head.
And I have been struggling with feelings I want to put to rest.
But this struggle has always existed,
I just have always resisted the pressure to speak of what troubles me,
And the reasons for which I no longer want to breathe.
I have always been silent and when it comes to my belief,
In the thoughts that will not allow me to sleep.
This is something I have always gone through,
And something that you are beginning to view,
As a piece of me and a part of the person you see me to be.
Depression has always resided in my mind,
And this is just another time when I struggle to stay alive.
But you are starting to see this side of me,
And I apologize for shaking your belief,
That I am a strong and happy and filled with life,
And someone who can prove to survive.
I am sorry that I have shared the truth,
That that is not just a trait of my youth,
But something that I continue to struggle through.
I am sorry that I am not the best friend you thought you had,
And that I prove to be more than just occasionally sad.
But I know that this is of no consequence to you,
Since this is something you have also been through.
I know that you will stand by my side,
No matter what battle I might have waging on the inside,
Since you have shown your loyalty through all of this,
And you still want to understand what it is,
That upsets the person I strive to be,
And you want to be the person who can change my belief.
You want to see me heal,
And you are my reminder every year,
That I have grown in ways I did not expect,
And I have gone further than I planned to transgress.
You are my biggest support,
And my favorite cohort,
In the mischief this life presents,
And the actions of which I do not repent.
You are my best friend,
And I should listen to you in the end,
Since all you want for me is to see,
The person that you love me to be.

I Could Hate Myself

I could blame this all on my mother –
My complete inability to be satisfied,
And my wish to be another,
Kind of person who holds pride inside,
For the person I can prove to be,
And the beliefs that I hold close to me.
I could wish that I were dead,
Due to the thoughts I cannot silence,
And the feeling of impending dread,
But that would be pious,
Manifesting my negative words instead.
I could be disappointed with myself,
And never applaud the things I do,
So that these negative feelings can be felt,
And I have nothing left to pursue,
Since I lack a belief in the strength I keep.
I could cry and yell and fall down again,
Leaving me a mess of unrecognizable emotion,
Feeling like my life is caving in,
And unsure how to begin again.
I could hate myself and all that I do,
Leaving everything to be disappointing,
And nothing to be true,
To the person I am avoiding,
And the actions I cannot undo.
I could despise the person I have become,
Leaving me with a world of hate,
And desperate attempts at feeling numb.
I could never let let this go,
And always allow disappointment to show.
I could make this true.
But in truth,
That is what I already do.

Yesterday I Was Depressed

It came out of nowhere with the dropping of a plant,
And I have no idea how it escalated from that,
To me laying on my floor for an hour,
Feeling like nothing was within my power to control,
And realizing that once again,
I was depressed on my bedroom floor.
It is a familiar feeling of numbness,
Since there are many times I have succumb to this.
It begins slowly,
But builds with time,
Until I look up and realize that it has all of me.
I try to put off the inevitable,
But it it will not relinquish its control,
And that’s when I end up on the floor,
Crying for no reason and staring with no purpose,
Wondering how I will continue to survive through this.
Since I will never know a day without depression,
And I will always feel like the world is crushing in.
I cannot shake this mental illness,
And I will never know what bliss is,
Since I am constantly infected with the negative.
My thoughts error on the side of suicidal,
And yet my hands remain idle,
Not willing to do anything about my pain,
Leaving me instead to feel insane.
Since there is nothing that should have set this off,
And yet effort is still an afterthought,
To sinking down in admittance of defeat,
And having recurring thoughts that my future is bleak.
I hate these words I speak,
Since they leave me sounding weak.
I hate that I have this illness,
Since it forces me to miss,
All the potential I had before,
It knocked me down to my bedroom floor.
I hate that I have no control,
Over this character trait that I deplore.
And most of all I hate that I am filled with so much dissatisfaction,
For a life that I attempt to fill with passion,
I make efforts to improve my state,
But in the end I cannot relate,
To the person I once believed myself to be,
One who was truly free,
From my fucked up view of reality.

Don’t Believe What You Are Told

I was told to ask What not Why,
And that that might help me discover what I am willing to try.
I was told to ponder who I am instead of how I got here,
And that that might bring me a step ever nearer,
To the place where I can ask if this phase might finally pass,
And leave me no more questions to ask.

I was told that I possess the strength,
And that I might be able to begin to negate,
The trials that I see so clearly,
And the fears that continue to plague me.
I was told to keep my head high but not my mind,
And that I was not meant to be the suffering kind,
Destined instead to rise above,
And embrace a feeling of love.

I was told that medication might keep me sane,
And that this might be all in my brain.
I was told that depression is out of my control,
And that it cannot be helped any more,
Because this is something with which I was born.

I was told that this can be a temporary state,
And that darkness is just a bait,
That draws me away from the light I possess,
And convinces me that I need rest.
I was told that laziness is the work of the devil,
And that I would have to rise above it to reach the next level,
Of enlightenment and purpose,
And give myself the opportunity to prove that I am worth more than this.

I was told that I need help,
And that my dark times are not to be felt.
I was told there are solutions for this,
And that there is an easy way to obtain bliss,
With the swallow of a pill and the belief that I am ill.

I was told it is not my fault,
And that I have an excuse for falling apart.
I was told this is because of my genes,
And that I can need to come clean,
To admit that I cannot go back and change that which is fact,
About the person I might be,
And the fears that I constantly see.

I was told there are solutions for my problem,
And that I have no excuse for falling,
So deeply into the depression that is consuming me,
And the habits that continue ruining me,

I told myself that I can do better,
And I resolved to not allow my mood to be affected by the weather.
I told myself I can shake this,
And I stopped myself from remaining complacent,

I said outloud that I am sane,
And that it only proves I am human when I feel pain.

I Am Sick Once Again

How did I get back here?
When I once worked so hard to avoid,
This crushing weight of the empty void,
I have recently become.
Because the only thing I seek is being numb,
And escaping it all,
So that I do not notice my own fall,
And tumble into a stumble,
Of uncertain rebuttal,
Which I thought I would have prepared by now,
And along the lines learned somehow,
To stand a little stronger,
And not allow this to be the only thing I ponder,
Allowing myself to to succumb,
To the darkness that I have learned will come,
When I begin to neglect my own sense of respect,
And do that which I know I will regret,
Such as smoking my day away,
And forgetting what it is like to run and play,
Leaning on my deadly crutches,
And encouraging my side that can be so destructive,
Since this life continues to slip through my desperate clutches,
And I am left wondering how I came to deserve all of this.
What did I do that welcomed all of this hate?
And how do I once again relate,
To the person I recently knew me to be,
Accomplishing things I knew I could always see.
What made me change so quickly?
And how was I so blind to the obvious lead,
I was taking in a life that has become perplexing,
And feels like it is running out of steam,
So early in my young and troubled life,
Because all I continue to recognize is strife,
Versus the opportunity that might be presented to me,
To learn and grow and set a different version of me free.
I know I once believed that the girl I knew me to be,
Was destined to only be a shadow of who I can be,
I once possessed the strength and stubbornness,
To pursue the impossible and allow me to transgress,
The restraints I once accepted as fact,
And my determination to react,
Not allowing myself to be constrained,
By the fact that I might actually be insane.
Because I count insanity as a blessing,
Since it keeps me alive and digressing,
Into the darkest corners and brightest lights,
Seeking a spark that I know I can ignite,
To save the person I have the potential to be,
And not allow this struggle to continue suffocating me.

Cyclical Depression

I don’t know what to write about any more,
Should I dive into the ways in which I have been wronged?
Or should I continue on with celebrating all that is gone?
I hate the sound of my own voice,
And have grown tired of listening to myself on loop,
Or find a way to be creative with this expression,
Because the same questions and doubts keep pressing in,
They never leave me alone,
And I remain hounded by the same questions,
If I have anything left of value to give?
Or if this is the point where I finally give up?
And succumb to the natural numbness found at the bottom of this cup?
I am tired of thinking positively,
And exhausted by the battle to not sink down completely,
Admitting that I am a natural piece of shit,
Allowing myself to finally come to terms with it,
Not caring any more about my boredom,
No longer giving a fuck about my potential,
And finally saying out loud that I have always been mental,
Because I love to love things that are bad for me,
And it is more natural to embrace the cynical,
Admitting to believe in that fact that all things are disappointing,
And nothing is worth working for,
Because it will all be ripped out from underneath me,
When I thought there was nothing even left beneath me,
Proving that I can always sink lower,
And there is always the hope for a lack of revival,
Paired with a frustrating piece of me that will not let go,
Of the conflicting hope to attain something larger,
And rise to the occasion I was born to address,
Forgiving myself for all the opportunities I transgressed,
And allowing myself to finally move on from this mess,
It is a nagging hope that I will finally learn to cope,
Finding the freedom that I have been searching for all along,
And allowing myself to feel like I belong,
In the place I have chosen to finally rest my head,
And the peace which I finally can bring to my bed,
If I choose to succumb to this release,
And work for the things that will bring me this,
Versus allowing myself to remain remiss,
And continue to complain about the opportunities I have missed,
Or the spirit that I lack,
Paired with an overwhelming desire to retract,
Any words that I spoke in boldness,
Or any thoughts I expressed with hopefulness,
So I can continue to deny,
That there is so much I am battling inside.