The cold winter wind is blowing
the breath out of my lungs.
Even in the summer.
Cause this winter called depression
lives in my mind.

But I don't act that way?
Yeah, you're right.
It's not an act.
It's who I am 
and I can't change that.

My heart races and I try not to black out
as I ground myself
because Anxiety and Panic Attacks
are my two best friends
and they never leave me alone.

But I don't act that way? Right again.
I spare the people around me,
the people I'm close to,
the people I love
from this hell that haunts me day and night.

The view from my closet
is not the same as the view from the living room windowpane.
But I can't come out into the open, because
no one will let me
I will hide forever and suffer in silence.

But I don't act that way?
I hide who I am because I am a disgrace.
No one understands and
it
hurts.

My broken pieces
don't fit together anymore,
and I'm waiting
for someone to notice
because I can't take it.

But I don't act that way? No, I don't.
Because when I do,
I'm written off as "bitchy and annoying"
or "faking it and selfish"
or "on my period and just causing drama."

But I hold it together.
And I damn well
don't have to prove my pain
to you.
It's not your pain,
not your business,
not your sob story to hear
because you feel like faking pity.
It's mine.
And I'm done letting you dictate what it looks like.