I wonder if anyone can tell
The entire pieces missing from this empty shell
The broken soul so easily hid
The jagged edges that refuse to fit
I stare at my reflection and scrutinize every flaw
Does anyone see I’m not here at all
Hidden within myself so well
I don’t think anyone but I can tell
But looking into this mirror I can see
There’s not much left inside of me
Once when talking with my mom about suicide and such she tells me how if she were depressed and wanted to kill herself she wouldn’t pussyfoot around it and nothing would stop her and she’d get it done without any trouble…
And then I have to question whether or not my mom knows I’m depressed and want to die, because she’s not dumb and is good at observing behavior in people…
But…if she does know…then…
Did my mom tell me I was a coward for not just going through with killing myself already?
Did my mom really tell me to kill myself?
This haunts me almost everyday…
Why does it feel the need to push people down for no reason?
Why does it always attack those who would never dream of attacking others?
Why does it always make you feel like shit for no reason other than the fact that you exist?
Why does it find enjoyment out of crushing any sort happiness?
I get it.
You don’t need to tell me, I know.
And I’m content with that.
I haven’t done anything to you.
So excuse me for assuming that meant that you would pay me the same courtesy.
Fuck you. I hope you’re miserable at whatever you end up doing with your life.
Because only the lowest of the low attack those who are minding their own business and not causing harm to anyone around them.
Only the lowest of the low would seek to choke out any sort of happiness simply because they don’t understand it.
Only the lowest of the low would ever be like you.
So I hope you have a miserable, shitty, terrible, soul-crushing life and you regret every decision you have ever made and constantly wish you were dead.
Congratulations. You deserve it.
I’m secretly depressed.
No one would believe me if I told them.
I’m always smiling and laughing.
Getting perfect grades.
Hakuna Matata, you know?
Except I’ve realized something.
I hate myself.
I wish I was dead.
I think about dying almost daily.
I’m not afraid of death anymore.
Sometimes I think it’d be easier if I just ended it all.
And no one would ever assume why.
They’d all be shocked if they could see into my mind.
But I know they’d get over my death.
I’m not that close with anyone.
I wouldn’t be missed.
Thoughts are dangerous things.
No one can control them.
No one can monitor them.
No one but yourself can even hear them.
Which makes them the most dangerous things on earth.
Once you think of something it will be there forever.
Even if you think they’re not there.
Eventually they’ll come up.
And then they will take over your mind.
Until it’s all you will ever think about.
And no one will ever know.
Because they’re your thoughts.
Belonging only to you.
And no one can hear them.
Funny things, thoughts.