trying to explain anxiety

first of all

why does everybody believe that you need a piece of paper to tell you that you have anxiety

that you have depression

that you have a mental illness

its not like we don't know this ourselves

so why won't you believe us unless it bad enough to see a doctor

this is how people get worse

nobody believes them

people quiet them

silence them

tie them up and tell them that they're fine while watching them scratch their hands raw

watching them bite they're hands

watching them not eat in the mornings

or barely eat during the day

or hearing them try to cry out

but they're so concerned about how others will react

so they have to make it a joke

or laugh off anything that slipped out

or anything that was noticed

cause it's not just cutting

theres biting

burning

starving

kicking

hitting

horrible thoughts

thoughts that say

"shut up!! your so stupid!!! don't speak you only make it worse!!!"

or "why don't you ever learn!!! you don't have a place so just stay out of everyone's way!!!"

"no one will except you if you don't conform to them!!!"

and these things slowly eat away at someone

its a silent and painful burning of their soul

a hidden and secret battle that they fight alone

because someone who gets paid to listen to teenagers rant isn't going to help at this point

they'll just tell them to make new friends

or to go out into the world

or to take more meds that they weren't taking for the headaches already

NONE OF THIS HELPS

DONT YOU PEOPLE SEE??!!

WE SUFFER IN SCILENCE BECAUSE YOU NEED A PEICE OF PAPER TO TELL YOU WHAT WE HAVE KNOWN

WE ARE NOT OK!!!!

we have to think of things to get us out of bed in the mornings

we are tormented by ourselves out of self hate

we destroy ourselves because we are not like you

we are different

we are broken

and we are bruised 

but you guys see us smiling 

you see us smiling for the ones we love

you see a normal girl who is just a little odd

you see a normal boy who just is a little lonely

but we are good at recognizing our own kind

we know it because we have lived it

and our silent and not so silent cries in the night go unheard