[ the depressive confession ]

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and i tried to tell you but you wouldn't really listen
my words ricocheting off of you like brittle lancets

are my feelings that invalid?
are my thoughts that unimportant?
is my mental space just another line to the conundrum of problems listed down on your grocery sheet?
is my breakdown another family soap opera scene meant for humor?

i never felt so small in my life

i tell you i'm tired and exhausted and you
tell me that you've been through worse,
belittling my experiences as youth,
telling me i've only lived half
of my life full of theatrics

you just broke my heart today, mom

i love you but you just cracked me open today
poked at my insecurities, scratched at my wounds
i went to battle today, i went to war, i went to
purgatory only to realize that the more you love a
person the more they can weigh you down

you made me feel like i was selfish for
being built the way i am,
soft, problematic, anxious and depressed,
i wasn't born to be a warrior nor a soldier,
my heart had collapsed and restarted all my life
i wish it would finally stop beating

once i started crying i couldn't stop
my body telling me it's time,
let it go, it's been coming

i never thought i'd feel so lonely with the people i love

you tell me that life was all about sacrifice,
all about striving for the people
who depend on you, all about the
hardships and trials and family,
all about surviving but i don't
wanna survive mom i wanna
grow roots on my own

is this what it feels like
to be tied-down by family?
to be suffocated until you won't
know the difference between
living and being a ghost?

you tell me you know me but do you really?
do you know what goes
inside my head everyday?

you tell me to look in the mirror and
see myself for who i really am but i already
do that every morning and the image
in the mirror won't change no matter
how much i smile

i think i'm depressed, mom
every day on the road to work i say
it's a good day to die
and i don't know what it means

occasionally, i feel great but three
steps forward the grief that swallows me
whole makes me nauseous and yet you tell me
to feel none of those things because
i have to be strong

but do i really have to be invincible
to be labelled as strong?
do i have to save a hundred thousand people
to be considered a hero when i'm
barely hanging onto myself at the present?
do i have to become a martyr to be
canonized as a saint when my demons
have come with me to the light?

how can i be strong like how you want me
to be when it's an emotion i've never felt?

i feel like i'm constantly on the precipice,
legs swinging, arms waving, fast breaths
looking below, wondering what it would it feel
to have my body break open like a sacrifice
it's only a matter of time before i find myself
jumping just to feel the adrenaline

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