I know what I feel, they don’t.

I wrote a poem today. About all the misunderstoodment about how I look like and how I really feel. My therapists don’t understand me, I explained it so many times. They keep saying that I don’t have a mask and that it’s the real me how I act, but that I think it’s a mask. Yeah right, so I have feeling so depressed for so many times, but acted like I was happy, but my therapists tell me that I really was happy in that time. So they tell my that I haven’t felt suicidal and depressed? How can they know what I feel?

Here’s the poem I wrote:

There’s my inside and my outside.
Between them there’s a huge gap.
There’s a gap between who I am and how I act.
But the only thing people see is my acting.
Even when I’m acting depressed,
I occure better than I really feel.
But I can’t change it,
because the mask became a part of me.
It’s my way to survive,
to live longer.