Who cares?

I sit here. Staring blankly at nothing.

So many thoughts running through my mind.

It hurts, it burns.

Hatred flares through me like raging fire.

It doesn’t stop, it never will stop.

I hate all this, I hate myself.

 

I feel sick. I feel tired.

I reach my palms out and beg for help.

I wished there was someone who could understand.

I was wrong, so so wrong.

I went to someone whom I trusted.

I tried to tell him my pain, I prayed that he would understand.

But he just threw more daggers against my heart.

Not only didn’t he understand but he saw me mad.

He kept telling me how ungrateful I was.

That there were many people whom were more unprivileged than I was.

What do you know? Have you been through the pain I have?

You say you know that everyone has a story.

But you chose to deepen my wound with your words.

Maybe you didn’t mean it, or maybe you did.

 

Depression isn’t something that I would choose to keep.

It isn’t fun to feel frustrated and hopeless everyday.

Depression is like acid.

Slowly eating you up inside every single day.

I feel so bad. I don’t know how to stop the pain.

I pull out my blade and give myself a swift cut across the shoulder.

Blood oozes out. I smile at it without flinching a bit.

I feel numb. I feel good.

Cutting is my only escape.

Countless scars everywhere. Who cares?

 

I give up on hope.

I give up trying to get help.

I surrender myself to depression.

For only depression would accept me for who I am.

Not like everyone else.