I write these poems sometimes. I would never share them with someone I knew personally but I guess I can here. They seemed kind of dark and crude after I read them over again and yet they were what I felt at the time. My true emotions put forth but I know I could never truly tell anyone about them. There’s one I wrote yesterday:
I’m falling apart. Ripping into pieces. Sometimes life’s too hard and there’s nothing I could dream of but tearing apart the life I dreamed of who would’ve thought that I could’ve been someone, who would’ve thought that they would have cared because it’s all too much to think about in the whole wide world it’s too much I don’t get why I have to be the one who suffers the one who’s in pain. And sometimes I think others are selfish and vain but it’s still me who feels all the worry and can’t be reined so please don’t worry about me when I’m gone I’ll know why I’m finally so sad and so worried about a future that will never come. Please stop pretending that it all mattered when it’s obvious that none of it really did. Cause if it did I would be someone who someone cared about I’d have someone who someone really wanted but who am I to pretend that it’s true. I’m so stupid and troubled with the things in my life. I don’t have anything to care about. Please let me go far away and don’t stress about the things we said because when all is said and done I’ll have kicked and gone and you still won’t care about me.
In a way it’s poetic but I read it and it’s so stupid. So not me. So strange that came from me at a time when I only felt darkness, when I was crying until no more tears came out and I just rolled over and went to sleep. I don’t want to die specifically. I used to cut myself and sometimes I look at my arm and I can see the scars fading away and I get this thought that maybe if I cut myself one more time that somebody would see it and say something. I wear short sleeves and nobody ever seems to notice them, not even my mom. I go to school, I’m a junior, and I’m about to fail out of physics and I suck at precalc and I think I just failed the psat and I don’t think I can make it out there. And I don’t think anyone sees me. I’m like the nice kid. I talk in class, I speak up, I make people laugh but I’m not happy anymore. I don’t think I ever was. There’s one poem I wrote that I’ve never gotten over. Only it’s not really a poem, it’s something different I don’t know how to describe. It’s more like an inference. It goes something like:
If I killed myself would I make a sound? Would anyone really care about me? All I can think is that I’ve been depressed for so long I don’t think anyone knows the real me anymore. If I cried in a room would anyone sit with me? Would anyone see beneath the facade I’d put on? I know the answer to that. They wouldn’t. They would keep thinking I’m fine and my depression would be my fault. Mine because I couldn’t tell anyone. Mine because I wouldn’t let anyone help me. But I’m crying again and I can’t let anyone help me. I can’t let anyone who has ever been the root of my pain try and help me. All I can do is wait for the darkness to swallow me up. To encompass me and make me feel anything besides pain. Anything besides slight happiness in the midst of nothingness. I miss being in my room. The purple walls keeping me at home. All I know is that I’d do anything for those dark feelings to go away. I just wonder why I get angry at people over the stupidest reasons. I get mad when my friends throw parties that I wouldn’t have been able to attend anyway, and sometimes they just don’t invite me when I can attend too. I cry when I’m alone like I couldn’t change it. Most of all, I’m depressed when all I need to do is ask for help but I can’t even do that correctly. I can’t ask for help. So I don’t. I wallow in my tears and wait for my last breath to take me away
All wil be well.