I've had a bad day...a bad week...a bad month. I don't know what wrong with me. I think this is depression. Like, the real stuff. Not the 8th grade teen angst. It scares me sometimes. Not that I'm suicidal, but what if this is it? What if I feel like this forever? I don't want attention this time. I don't want help. People always ask me whats wrong, but I refuse to tell them. Why? Because half the time I don't even know what's wrong. But, I mean, sometimes I do. But I still won't tell you. I'm scared to. You know why? It's because last time I tried to get help, people made fun. They called me emo, a cutter, said I was seeking attention. And yeah, I was all those things. But I don't want to be incorrectly seen as that now. I don't know, I'm confused as hell. No one's there anymore. If anybody knew how fucked up a really am, who would want to be my friend?
Nobody.
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