On the first day of Christmas depression gave me
a scar on my wrist I regret
On the second day of Christmas depression gave to me
Two bad therapists and a scar on my wrist I regret
On the third day of Christmas depression gave to me
Three panic attacks, two bad therapists and a scar on my wrist I regret.
On the fourth day of Christmas depression gave to me four fucking fake friends, three panic attacks, two bad therapists and a scar on my wrist I regret.
On the fifth day of Christmas depression gave to me five days I slept in, four fucking fake friends, three panic attacks, two bad therapists and a scar on my wrist I regret.
On the sixth day of Christmas depression gave to me Six depressing thoughts, five days I slept in, four fucking fake friends three panic attacks two bad therapists and some scars on my wrist growing more.
On the seventh day of Christmas depression gave to me: seven failed papers, six depressing thoughts, five days I slept in, four fucking fake friends, three panic attacks, two bad therapists, and 15 growing scars on my arm.
On the eighth day of Christmas depression gave to me: eight failed attempts, seven failed papers, six depressing thoughts, five days I slept in, four fucking fake friends, three panic attacks, two bad therapists, and 20 scars I'm regretting right now
On the ninth day of Christmas depression gave to me: nine reasons to give up, eight failed "attempts", seven failed papers, six depressing thoughts, five days I slept in, four fucking fake friends, three panic attacks, two bad therapists, and makeup on my arms hiding scars
On the tenth day of Christmas I finally ended it, the nine reasons to give up eight failed attempts seven failed papers six depressing thoughts, five days I slept, in four fucking fake friends, three panic attacks, two bad therapists, and a noose that I used here today...
