Depression Is My Kryptonite

Perspective of Interpretation

I don't always think about what I write or when I publish it to the public eye.

It can hurt people and it can make them believe that my words are directed like daggers towards them, when in reality it's directed to myself and my fucked up mentality.

Unaware to the world around me and what other's may think of it.

Your words about it honestly scared me and caught me completely off-guard.

Thinking about it now is still a bit hard.

I didn't mean to hurt you by it.

When I wrote it I was in class and I had a sense of empowerment rush over me to actually make something out of myself, although it came out harsh and pessimistic as hell.

I'm sorry that this is my content.

I'm sorry that i conducted a social experiment while I had the opportunity because I was sick and already having a really rough time with what people would do if I were gone.

I forgot that it wasn't a normal request to make.

I didn't even realize until I heard you hesitate.

I was just curious.

I'm sorry.

It kind of feels like you hate me right now because of it.

Because I'm weird and intrusive and I want to know what happens when I'm not there.

Because I ask the questions that most won't dare.

I took a risk with that experiment.

I still don't know what I was expecting.

But the outcome certainly isn't helping.

Nothing is helping anymore.

I'm sorry, this took an odd path.

  I'm going to go before I fuck up anymore with my words than I already have.