Thoughts of depression

Fake

Sometimes I wonder if my mental illness is real, or if I just fake it.
I want to believe it's real, but how can I tell when nothing helps.
It's like I'm in a constant state of depression.
Like constant rain, only subsiding to thick clouds above me.
They follow me everywhere.
They never disperse to let the sun shine through.
Only one thing seems to help.
The "devils lettuce".
But when that's illegal, it's hard to medicate.
I want someone to grab my hand and pull me out of this ocean of sadness I'm drowning in.
I want someone to hug me and tell me everything is going to be alright.
But I wouldn't believe them anyway, so what's the point?
How do I know if things will get better if they never have?
Things only seem to get grayer and grayer.
Color is nonexistent.
All I feel is nothingness.
Numbness.
I try all I can to pull myself up from the cliff I'm dangling from.
The razor blade seems to help, but only for a moment.
It gives me a break from the pain inside of my head.
I don't want that to be my saving grace.
I need someone to save me, because I can't save myself.
It hurts.
It hurts so bad.
Please save me from this hell I'm living in.