It's not even the fact that I'm a miserable person,
Because I don't want to be.
That I think of the worst,
Because I don't want to.
That I am a downer or an over thinker.
Because sometimes I wish I wasn't.
It's not even the fact that sometimes,
Sometimes I'm too sad to get up,
Because there's this crushing weight in my veins,
Like an IV filled with lead.
And sometimes this weight,
This burden,
Comes too unexpectedly,
And too strong,
And I can't.
I can't make it to the plans we had.
I can't pretend for you today.
I can't smile and skip,
When every breath is a hairline fracture in the dam holding back a river.
And so sometimes it hurts,
When you misunderstand.
When you get annoyed.
When you replace me,
All because I'm a bit more sad today,
Than I've ever let you see.
-D.
YOU ARE READING
No More Hiding
Non-FictionWhat's the point in hiding the truth? TRIGGER WARNING: -EATING DISORDERS. -DEPRESSION. -SELF-HARM. -SUICIDE. -ANXIETY. -HEARTBREAK. -ASSAULT. IF YOU FIND YOURSELF SENSITIVE OR EASILY TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THIS CONTENT, PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE. You have...
