Yours Truly

lxxv. depression is not a joke

A spoken word poetry

-X-

Depression is not a joke.
It certainly isn't a joke.
You wouldn't know when it will hit you or not.
You just know that it already hit you when you feel like giving up.
You don't know who is suffering depression.
Is it the girl sitting quietly in the back of your class?
Or is it the girl that is not afraid to laugh out loud?
And now, I am here in front of you, to tell you that depression is not a joke.

Because you see,
Depression has many faces.
And that's the problem.
You cannot identify it.
May it be sad or gloomy,
May it be excitement or happy.
But then again, depression has many faces.

People have their own problems.
Some are too confident and are not afraid to tell.
Some are just too good at hiding it.
Afraid.
What are you afraid?
Afraid that everyone is just going to judge them,
Afraid that everyone is just going to tease them, tell them that they just need attention, when they tell.
That's why we just stay quiet, lowkey.
And that's dangerous.
Because everyone of us has limits.
Yes, even the good ones.
Because the moment we burst out,
We just shout our heart out because we couldn't take it anymore.
It feels like needles are shooting down our skin everytime.
Everytime we lie about being okay.
Because the truth is,
We aren't.

People calls depression a joke.
But when someone dies because of depression,
What do they do?
They symphatize.
Call him or her such wonderful things that they wanted someone to tell them back when they were still alive.
But it's too late.
Because they're dead.

Ironic isn't it?
The people that burned us down,
The people responsible for what happened to us,
Were the one symphatizing and calling themselves "our friend."
Our friend?
Why didn't they told us that back when we were still alive?

Depression is like fighting your own demons.
Fighting,
Clashing,
Burning,
Crying,
And dying.
You coudn't do anything about it because your enemy is yourself.

People told me,
Suicide is not the answer.
But that's not true.
What will you do when everything, everything seems to be falling apart,
Brick by brick,
Stone by stone,
Dust by dust.
Until everything,
Everything was gone.

And we couldn't take it anymore.
We cut our wrist open.
Enjoyed the blood oozing out of it.
And realized, it actually didn't hurt.

Don't tell me that suicide is not the answer.
Because I just wanna go home.
Home.
Where everything is okay.
Where everything is not falling apart anymore.
Where everything is happy.

You don't know what I've been through.
You don't know the trials I've overcome.
You don't know the sadness that I've felt.
Because you're not me!

You have a perfect family,
Perfect friends,
Perfect life,
Exactly, what could go wrong?
And me?
I don't know where I am.
Help me because I am lost.

And now, I am here in front of you,
Telling you,
Pleading you,
Begging you,
Please,
Depression is not a joke.

-X-