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Real talk time...


I can’t go a day without tearing at my skin,

Wishing I were dead, wishing I were thin.

I hurt the ones I love because I can’t let them in.

When I look in the mirror, I hate what I see.

Trapped in a body, and I’ll never be free.

I put on a smile and pretend that I’m happy,

But the truth is I’m depressed…and I’m scared that I always will be.

I feel most ashamed when I let my sense win,

Say when I eat a meal that I easily could have binned.

I cry for hours and it doesn’t change a thing,

I hate who I am, what I look like…and it’s exhausting.

From the moment I wake up I’m in excruciating pain,

And the voices in my head drive me even more insane,

“You’re worthless, you’re disgusting, and you’re always to blame…”

“Kill yourself”, they say, or things will never change.

I try; I really do try so hard everyday,

Because the thought of always feeling this way,

It makes me feel sick, it makes me feel ashamed,

That I’m the one that’s let myself end up this fateful way.

I may be alive but I’m not really living.

Some days it feels like I’m barely even existing.

It may sound stupid but there doesn’t even have to be anything bad going on,

My day could be ‘perfectly fine’ and I’ll still feel like everything’s wrong.

You know, I’d feel like I’m drowning, like I’m suffocating, like I don’t belong.

I don’t glorify my struggles like some sort of prize.

Yeah, I’ve overcome a lot to keep myself alive,

I’m broken, I’m scarred and I barely survived.

Depression is ugly, but it has a beautiful disguise,

And that’s how it catches you, through constant lies.

I’ve been in recovery for over three years,

And even now I lay awake at night at 2am in tears.

“Just hold on till tomorrow”, I say, but tomorrow is not so near,

So I do, I reach for the pills and I say to myself “tomorrow doesn’t ever have to get here.

I consider, of course, the people I’d leave behind,

But then I remember that they’ve all been so blind.

And no, I don’t blame them, because just look at the mess they’d find.

But I’m hurting myself, they can see that, and yet they just turn a blind eye.

I don’t understand what’s going on in my head.

I’ve lost all control, I wish I was dead.

It’s been over a week and I haven’t left my bed.

You can try and talk to me but I won’t remember what you said.

Don’t take it personally; it’s not you, it’s me- I’m depressed!

I’m tired, I’m cold and I’m running out of breath.

Is it selfish of me to feel this way?

I didn’t ask for these demons to come out and play.

And I want nothing more than for them to just go away.

But at the same time…I don’t…because they’ve made me who I am today…

Fuck! I can’t think when everything’s so fucking loud!

I’m screaming but it’s silent, god I hope you’re proud.

Look what you’ve done to me, is this some sort of sick game?!

You torture your victims what do you have to gain?

Oh I get it, you can’t survive without us, you feed off our pain.

Well I’ve had enough; I’m standing up and saying “no”.

Depression, you’re a cunt, and I’m letting you go…

I don’t know how long it will take but one day I will be stronger than you.

I’m going to give it all I’ve got because, at this point, I’ve got nothing left to lose…


Alice xxx

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