I am a Walking Diagnosis

At first the word depression

Doesn't belong to you

Your mother writes-off your self-destruction

As over-dramatics, you're too young

To be broken

You don't deserve a real diagnosis

So you keep the condition under your skin

Peeling your oranges and wondering 

If your apathy is something everyone goes through

You don't want to be seen as causing touble again

So you sit down and shut up and 

Decide that you're absoulutely fine

You're just going thorugh a rough patch

It doesn't matter that one night while babysitting the neighbors

You took a pair of scissors to the inside of your left arm and

Discovered that this is what being alive is like

You are not depressed

But you take to writing wake up on the inside of your wrist 

As if pleading with yourself to find feeling again

It's not an addiction

Even though you come home from a perfectly good day and end up

Cutting your skin and only being able to sleep when you're

Bleeding

You've just got a strong darkness

Even though there's

Now way

Out of this

 

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