It really hurts, everyday, waking up with nothing to look forward too. When almost all your bestfriend's leave, or betray you. When people at school make accusations. When your mom won't even listen, or consider for a minute that maybe you're right.
And when you can't even get two words in when talking to your boyfriend. And crying all night long until five in the morning when you actually get to sleep for two hours, and then waking up after a nightmare and crying even more.
When the best your mom can say about your depression is ask Jehovah and tells you you just need to see a psychiatrist. And when you think back about when you were little, and laying out in your back yard and napping with your lab and your pointer.
You wonder why that all had to stop, why when you got to be eleven the world started to hate you and the only thing you could do was laugh and act like nothing happened. Why everyone thinks it's okay to abuse your feelings, and to use you like you're nothing but a doll. To have your heart repetitively ripped out of you, and those people leaving you for dead over and over.
You wonder why the only person who ever made you feel right, like you belonged, is considered a bad guy. Why the only thing keeping you from breaking has been torn away from you without any legitimate reason. Why you can't even trust your family to be supportive.
And you sit in your room and cry and when your mom walks in, she doesn't even say anything. She just puts away clothes while you stare at her with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. And while she's walking downstairs, you let out sobs because all you wanted was a simple hug. And she just keeps walking to go smoke. And why she doesn't even answer the phone when you call her because you need someone to embrace you. And why she says you should go to school even when your sobbing and screaming.
And people tell me it's not that bad. You try it. You tell me how it feels. To be trashed and beaten around. And to only have a couple of people to trust and to be loved by. And then one ripped from your arms. You try to live with your soul slowly dying. To live with your mind slowing losing it's ability to laugh. And to feel so sad you don't even want to speak. And to stop singing. And to cry at your piano. To
slowly become drained and apathetic, the whole process painful.And when you can't even get two words in when talking to your boyfriend. And crying all night long until five in the morning when you actually get to sleep for two hours, and then waking up after a nightmare and crying even more.
When the best your mom can say about your depression is ask Jehovah and tells you you just need to see a psychiatrist. And when you think back about when you were little, and laying out in your back yard and napping with your lab and your pointer.
You wonder why that all had to stop, why when you got to be eleven the world started to hate you and the only thing you could do was laugh and act like nothing happened. Why everyone thinks it's okay to abuse your feelings, and to use you like you're nothing but a doll. To have your heart repetitively ripped out of you, and those people leaving you for dead over and over.
You wonder why the only person who ever made you feel right, like you belonged, is considered a bad guy. Why the only thing keeping you from breaking has been torn away from you without any legitimate reason. Why you can't even trust your family to be supportive.
And you sit in your room and cry and when your mom walks in, she doesn't even say anything. She just puts away clothes while you stare at her with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. And while she's walking downstairs, you let out sobs because all you wanted was a simple hug. And she just keeps walking to go smoke. And why she doesn't even answer the phone when you call her because you need someone to embrace you. And why she says you should go to school even when your sobbing and screaming.
And people tell me it's not that bad. You try it. You tell me how it feels. To be trashed and beaten around. And to only have a couple of people to trust and to be loved by. And then one ripped from your arms. You try to live with your soul slowly dying. To live with your mind slowing losing it's ability to laugh. And to feel so sad you don't even want to speak. And to stop singing. And to cry at your piano. To
