you want to everything in the world to be beautiful, you force yourself to see the beauty in everything. but, that is not what it's like. you want to make everything seem tragically beautiful. you want everything to appear deep, and you want to romanticize everything. and you do.
you tell me that kid who has depression is broken, dreadfully broken, but you make it sound like a good thing. you make people dying in war sound romantic, like something out of a movie. you show people in poverty and homelessness and war zones in a bright light, and you say they appreciate life more, but you say it in a sick way, like you wish you were there because, to you, the concept is beautiful.
and sometimes you fool me. and i find myself wanting to be broken just so someone can put me back together again. i find myself wishing to be born into a different home and a different place. you make me believe suffering is charming and mysterious.
it's not. it really isn't.
suffering is hard, and you only do it because you have to. you don't choose to suffer, you don't begin something thinking "i want to suffer". you just don't. that is an insult to those who are suffering, who are depressed, who are dying.
you laugh and say i don't understand. you say "it is all about what people on the outside think about it. and when you really look at it, you find it's romantic." no. it's not.
i have been depressed. it is not romantic. there was no knight in shining armour.
i have been poor. it isn't fun. there aren't advantages. it means not affording toilet paper because you don't have enough money.
the world is not beautiful because of its suffering. it is only beautiful because of how people deal with the pain, and what comes after. it is beautiful because of what people build after it has been destroyed. it is only beautiful because of how people trust each other, and help each other.
like the rainbow after the rain. or the calm after a hurricane, the world is beautiful when it is not suffering. when it is whole and good and pure.
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YOU ARE READING
sunshine under your ribs
Poëzienot everyone has good days. poetry, from yours truly.