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Depression isn’t true, my dear Depression isn’t real. It’s just a silly tragedy You’ve forced yourself to feel. Anxiety is fake, my friend You wonder why it’s there. But others have it worse than you! Stop forming false despair. Cutting is dramatic, love, It’s ugly, and it’s dumb. Why not just get over it? Is the attention fun? Suicide is stupid, dear, And selfish, if I may. Get over yourself, darling, Can you hear these things I say? Why aren’t you replying, love? Oh, where could you have gone? I never meant to hurt you, love, Did I say something wrong? Why aren’t you replying, dear

I've heard so many people tell those who suffer depression to just 'cheer up.' I wonder if they can really believe that it's that simple. Depression isn't just sadness. It is emptiness, it is misery. It is pain and nothingness at once. When you are truly depressed you lack the ability or will to cheer yourself up. No one just 'has depression.' You suffer from it. This is depression: You will wake at 5, 6, maybe 7am, feeling as though you had only just fallen asleep. It's likely you did. If you don't have to be somewhere, you could lie in bed for another 3 hours...too tired, too miserable and pathetic to crawl out of you bed. Or maybe you wi

People on social media sites tend to glorify things that hurt. They brag about things that people struggle with. Mental illness is not a label. It is not a badge nor a privilege or something you have to earn. People suffer, they battle voices in their heads that they do not even recognize. People struggle to tame their inner demons and keep up an image that the world expects them to uphold. Mental illness is not cute, being so anxious you cannot speak is not a quirk. Relying on people to take care of you is not romantic. News flash! Your life is not an episode of Skins The idea of Effy and Freddie is fictional, no one is going to save yo

My thighs were first. Then my wrists. And shoulders. And fingers. And feet. Everything. Ripped out at the seams. I ripped them out myself, if only to avoid giving others the pleasure. I ripped them out hard, if only to teach myself a lesson: I deserved it. I ripped them out and all the while I sang to myself, unable to cry or scream for fear that it would make the pain less real. I joked about them. I laughed about them. I smiled about them, calling myself "the stupid emo kid" and believing it was true. It was true. To me. I deserved it. I needed it. I craved it. I wanted it. I breathed it. I worshipped i

Have you ever wanted to die? So bad That you stood in the bathroom A knife or a razor blade in hand Maybe a boodle of pills And a glass of water And you stared at the mirror Just wishing you'd die But then you started to think About your mom and your dad Your sisters and brothers Your nephews and nieces All of your friends And you put down the knife or the razor blade You put away the pills And you walked away Acting like nothing ever happened But the thoughts of your family and friends Never stay for long Day's week's maybe months later Your back to thinking about suicide and death

1. it's okay to fall in love. i mean, they tell you you're never going to marry your high school sweetheart and i'm not going to tell you it's a lie because it's not. you guys will probably break up and it's gonna hurt like hell but you'll be okay. remember, you are not the only one who has felt loneliness like a knife, the only one to know the pain of lungs collapsing because they were your air, and you will never be the only one who whispered "i love you" two lives too soon. you will not be the last one to have tucked hair behind their ear and leaned in for a kiss or the last one to wake up reaching for a hand that's no longer there. b