It's Not

Wed, 05/25/2016 - 01:41 -- TProta

It’s not depression

It’s not suicidal

It’s not anxiety

 

Because I tell myself

It’s not

 

Others have it worse

anyway

 

How can I subject myself to say that it’s that bad?

Because it’s not

 

I live

I am healthy

I smile at stupid jokes

I have people who love me

I can go days feeling

fine

I guess

If that’s what you’d call it

 

Fine.

 

It might not

 

Because

There’s always something

 

Something and nothing

 

Tell me.

Do humans keep themselves preoccupied because of habit?

Is doing something

does it ward off boredom

 

Maybe

for some of us maybe

 

Or do we simply do something to keep ourselves from The Nothing

 

Nothing is silence after all

Silence is unnerving

it makes the mind conjure something

 

anything.

or not, it depends, I guess.

 

Silence is not alone

But alone is almost silence

 

When I am alone

huh.

 

The sadness

it exists.

From beneath my bones it slowly reaches the surface

and then all at once

it is. overwhelming

I can hear my heart beating too loudly for my own good.

It shouldn’t be beating

Why is it beating?

why am i alive i never chose this why is it beating it shouldn’t be beating why am i Still alive

 

There’s that one lyric from the radio

Silence is violent

I guess

It might be

 

It would be easy

I never Really touched the world

It would work without me

I never decided to enter

but perhaps i could decide to exit

 

I mean those little incidents add up.

Disappointment from my loved ones. Regrets for my life. Guilt from my sins. False hope given to others. Failures of my touch

 

I could stop it. I mean

I, at least, had That Power.

I guess.

 

There’s a scenario

it was from that one episode i watched, i haven’t finished the series

Put me and another person who is basically the same. Same personality, same style…

same mind

but a different face

Would I say that the world was better without them? No I would vehemently respond. Would I tell them they had nothing left to live for? You have so many things to live for. Should they die? Live, I’d say, please.

 

But what about me? Could I tell that to myself? Because so far my worst enemy has been

myself.

Alone. A mirror. That’s all it took. It may be all that it will take.

 

A future looks so bleak from here.

I should stop when I get the chance, I mean I’m sure I won’t Really affect anything. I guess.

 

Or

Am I just being pitiful again?

no maybe it’s not

There’s a thing

a nagging thing, really

It’s in the back of my head like ropes straining against a sharp edge

But not cut. It’s not. It’s not already cut, I mean.

 

Let me tell you something

When you reach a low point

Rock bottom or whatever you call it

You can’t help but look up at the high points you’ve missed in the past

yeah, that puts me in a mood (it’s not depression, it’s not suicidal, it’s not anxiety)

Regret… but that word always implies moving on

i haven’t, probably never will

You can’t help but see the low points you’ll face later

Later

huh, you see

I’m already thinking about living

The silence, like I said, it keeps you thinking

then you’re thinking about what could be’s and how you could change yourself for the better and all those stupid success talks on youtube and future events you’ve already planned out from your dreams and impossible scenarios that will never happen and

strangely You start to hope

I start to hope

Should I live–The Future–I hope it’s worth it

 

It will be.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741