Rainbow Pride

After the argument between my parents, my mum avoided my dad for a few days and things, although tense, were peaceful. Over the following week my depression hit hard and my entire persona changed, making me difficult to be around.

I sat in my bedroom staring at the drawing I had spent hours working on, it was darker that my usual art but it reflected my mood perfectly. By the end of the week, my bedroom became my haven and I spent most of my time in there.

It was a Saturday when Kaden came over; as soon as I saw him I knew he was worried and normally I would feel guilty about it, but this time I just felt numb. Depression can present itself in many forms and at different levels of severity, but I had never experienced it this bad before.

Kaden stuck around for a couple of hours, keeping me company and making sure that I didn’t do anything stupid… he was always worried about that. When he left I spent some time browsing the web and came across some poems that really spoke to me… that reflected the thoughts that were swimming around my brain.

‘I slit my wrist to erase the pain,
you look at me, and think I'm insane,
my eyes turn red, bleeding my tears,
and still you try to protect me from my worst fears.
Look at my scars then you will see,
why I can't seem to go around and fake happy,
yet you tell me you love me, that you'll forget,
for I'll soon be gone, and I'll be your greatest regret.
So let me die, broken and scarred,
I can't deal with life, it's getting far to hard,
everything's gone wrong, it's not worth trying,
so leave me alone because I feel like I'm dying,
I don't want you to worry,
because my life is ending in a hurry,
I'll be fine, and happy you see,
for death is what I wished for and soon it will be.’

I’ve cut myself, I’ve regretted it afterwards but I’m not ashamed to admit that I did it… that I felt as if I had no other escape and that the blade slicing across my wrist gave me some release from the hold that my emotions seemed to have over me. People judge people that cut… we’re emos or attention seekers because of what we do, but the truth is… you don’t always know what a person has been through or is going through.

Sometimes things in my head become overwhelming… sometimes I just want to give up and not have to feel the way I do. In a world where I often feel like an outsider, my scars tell my story… clearer than any words ever could.