You Wanna Know How It Feels?
You feel like you're a storm and everyone else is in your way and you're about to explode and kill them all, but they don't see it.
They tell you to talk to someone.
Like it's that easy.
Like you wanna tell everybody all your deepest darkest thoughts like you're some book?
But you're expected to sit down, take your pills, and shut up.
So you turn to your friend the razor blade.
As it slides across your skin, you don't even feel the pain because the pain inside you overpowers it.
It makes the blade feel like a pin prick.
And then you think of the thousands, maybe millions of people who also mutilate their bodies and you think "Maybe if I dug a little deeper I'd find all the answers".
But you realize you've gone too far and you probably need stitches but you don't care.
The pain still hasn't subsided, so you take another wedge out.
Time to up my dosage of happy pills.
And then come the checks.
"Take off your pants and shirt."
"Here to violate me again?"
So you do what they ask and get thrown back in a room with a bed and blood stains on the ceiling and everything is white because that's the color of a "clean slate".
You're prodded and poked and tested a bunch and if you pass you get out of there.
Why do you do it?
Because it's better than hitting a bottle because you don't like the feeling of being buzzed.
Because people can smell it and taste it on you.
And then you hate yourself because you're hurting the people who truly care about you.
You look at all your "imperfections" and think, if I stop eating, I can change that.
And every time you inhale a bite of food then comes the regret, fear, guilt, and you look at yourself and think FATASS UGLY WHORE.
Depression is a hole.
Every time you make it to the top, someone pours acid on you and send you tumbling back down, and the dirt is soft so you sink.
It's dark and you're alone.
And NO ONE can get you out.
They yell "words of encouragement" and smile their big fake smiles and you just wanna spit in their faces and scream.
And they have the nerve to ask "are you alright."
No, you motherfucker.
I'm broken, lost, scared, ugly, dead, fat...
"I'm fine." and you smile and lie and soon those lies get bigger and bigger and you're soon tangled in some nasty web of your own words and then they yell at you because lying is IMMORAL.
So now you're also an evil bitch bound for hell.
At least your coffee won't get cold.
And no one knows how it FEELS.
The turmoil swarming around in your head, yeah you have ADHD because who could ignore themselves while their yelling insults inside?
You're the fucked up one.
And who fucked you up?
Yourself.
So, yeah you've tried to kill yourself eight times because you can't take it anymore and you're SELFISH.
No, they won't even remember your name in six months.
Every morning "good morning, ready to go through hell again?"
Hold it together.
You can cry, cut, and drink later after everyone's gone........
You wanna know how it feels?
They tell you to talk to someone.
Like it's that easy.
Like you wanna tell everybody all your deepest darkest thoughts like you're some book?
But you're expected to sit down, take your pills, and shut up.
So you turn to your friend the razor blade.
As it slides across your skin, you don't even feel the pain because the pain inside you overpowers it.
It makes the blade feel like a pin prick.
And then you think of the thousands, maybe millions of people who also mutilate their bodies and you think "Maybe if I dug a little deeper I'd find all the answers".
But you realize you've gone too far and you probably need stitches but you don't care.
The pain still hasn't subsided, so you take another wedge out.
Time to up my dosage of happy pills.
And then come the checks.
"Take off your pants and shirt."
"Here to violate me again?"
So you do what they ask and get thrown back in a room with a bed and blood stains on the ceiling and everything is white because that's the color of a "clean slate".
You're prodded and poked and tested a bunch and if you pass you get out of there.
Why do you do it?
Because it's better than hitting a bottle because you don't like the feeling of being buzzed.
Because people can smell it and taste it on you.
And then you hate yourself because you're hurting the people who truly care about you.
You look at all your "imperfections" and think, if I stop eating, I can change that.
And every time you inhale a bite of food then comes the regret, fear, guilt, and you look at yourself and think FATASS UGLY WHORE.
Depression is a hole.
Every time you make it to the top, someone pours acid on you and send you tumbling back down, and the dirt is soft so you sink.
It's dark and you're alone.
And NO ONE can get you out.
They yell "words of encouragement" and smile their big fake smiles and you just wanna spit in their faces and scream.
And they have the nerve to ask "are you alright."
No, you motherfucker.
I'm broken, lost, scared, ugly, dead, fat...
"I'm fine." and you smile and lie and soon those lies get bigger and bigger and you're soon tangled in some nasty web of your own words and then they yell at you because lying is IMMORAL.
So now you're also an evil bitch bound for hell.
At least your coffee won't get cold.
And no one knows how it FEELS.
The turmoil swarming around in your head, yeah you have ADHD because who could ignore themselves while their yelling insults inside?
You're the fucked up one.
And who fucked you up?
Yourself.
So, yeah you've tried to kill yourself eight times because you can't take it anymore and you're SELFISH.
No, they won't even remember your name in six months.
Every morning "good morning, ready to go through hell again?"
Hold it together.
You can cry, cut, and drink later after everyone's gone........
You wanna know how it feels?