I Kept it Hidden

I didn’t tell anyone that I was depressed. I didn’t know how. If you were a parent and your twelve year old daughter said she was depressed would you believe her? I wouldn’t, especially since I usually come across as the happiest of the children. When I finally worked up the courage to tell my mom, my timing couldn’t have been worse. It was the night before mothers day, and I let out all I had hidden. I opened up, I cried and confessed. I told her everything, right down to wishing the house would burn down with me along with it. I was so sure she would understand, because she’d been depressed before too. When I finally looked up she was just sitting there. She didn’t care. She never would. I realized no one in my family loved me or cared at all. I never opened up again. I never told anyone else in my family that I was depressed. I cried in private, I lost my contact with the world, I let myself slip away. I might end it all as early as thirteen. But how can I leave the few in the world that cared about me? How can I end it all as painlessly as possible? How do I let myself die? I don’t know how to tell them I’m tired of it. I took to writing poems, and my mom likes them. She doesn’t know how much of me they are. I might post a few, when I have the time. I did post one already, but I don’t think much of it. I’m not that nice a person when I write. I get dark, really dark. If you read them, just remember. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.