Depression Is My Kryptonite

Update

The weight of everything is slowly breaking me down.
My ceramic shell can't uphold the pressure.
Anxiety is fighting with me.
I can't win.
Can't even approach who I like in the hall without my chest filling itself with the agonizing warmth.
It's flooding inside of the barely lasting ribcage.
I keep saying I don't have much longer, but I believe that it's already given out.
That's why my head is so fulfilled with doubt.
Suicidal daydreams confronted by memories.
Cuts are venturing both mentally and physically.
I still hear it all.
It echoes throughout the crumbled down town.
I have no idea what's wrong anymore.
Everything just feels off.
I'm so fucking lost in this chaos.