You ask me to smile.
You ask me to brush it off.
You tell me it’s just a state of mind.
You ask me to grow up.
You advise me to go out more.
You advise me to talk to people.
You ask me to move on.
You ask me to leave it all behind.
You tell me it’s gonna be alright.
You tell me it’s all in my head.
You tell me that I need to express myself more.
You tell me to look at the brighter side instead.
What do you know about how I feel?
What do you know about tremendous feelings I’ve felt?
What do you know about the struggles I go through?
What do you know about my state of mind?
Waking up is a chore.
The lack of drive is suffocating.
You think I might overact but this is how I suffer.
This is how I live, this is my endeavor.
The voices in my head never stop screaming.
Criticism is internal.
Even I hate myself for how I’m feeling.
This constant state is a struggle.
Memories are what I reside in.
Rewind them back to see what I’ve left behind.
Think about how I could make things right.
Believing that my decisions will not make my future bright.
Anxiety becomes a close friend in this state of mind.
When you ask me to show that smile, the more I want it to hide.
It’s not easy living this kind of life,
Especially with you telling me how to do this right.
Happiness seems fleeting.
I struggle to keep myself from putting a bullet through my head.
I appreciate your concern, but this isn’t the help I need.
Everyone knows how it feels to be depressed. Each of us has felt sad indeed.
You see it’s not sadness that consumes me.
It’s this lack of control.
You don’t know how it feels to own a mind like mine.
You don’t know about the thoughts and screams that go like bullets through my head.
You can’t stop choosing to sleep through your alarms.
You can’t stop from worrying if the other person cares or not.
You can’t stop spending hours alone contemplating the reason you exist.
You can’t stop feeling the way you feel. This fucked up head, this brain feels like a cyst.
Depression isn’t the sadness that follows rejection.
Depression isn’t the feeling you get when you’re denied a new phone.
Depression isn’t the feeling you get when you’re brokenhearted.
Depression isn’t occasional.
I love being around people.
I love having a heartfelt talk.
Stop trying to focus on how sad I feel.
Stop trying to judge if I’m depressed or not.
I always wish I were dead.
It isn’t intentional. Its my mind overriding the feeling of dread.
You ask me stop thinking that way and smile instead.
It’s not that easy. My mind is misled.
I don’t need your sympathy.
I just need you to smile. I need you to feel happier instead.
It makes me feel better.
Being around happy people doesn’t fuck with my head.
This for all the people who feel helpless like me.
Stuck in the void, struggling to break free.
You’re not alone.
You’re the reason, there is a ‘we’
Don’t address how we feel.
We appreciate the concern,
We’re also loving and fun.
We’re normal, there’s a war in our heads we haven’t won.