I don’t want to be a stereotype
Depression has become a trend and it disgust me
I feel unspecial when I say I have depression like I have to have suicidal problems to speak freely
Just for ppl to see me
To see I’m hanging on by a thread
That I’d rather be dead
I don’t know why people want to throw that word around
It’s not cute or cool to feel so anxious you can’t make a sound
You can’t make a peep but the voices inside of your head are so loud
The voices I so desperately wanna drown out
I don’t even remember what I sound like
When people ask you “how are you” they just want lies
They want to hear about your happiness not hear your fatal cries
So I just say ” I’m okay”
“Why just okay” with their faux-concern they say
Okay for me is I’m still living
I’m still breathing. I’m still giving
I think I can relate more to a soldier than a civilian
Consistently reminding myself to take control and breath in
Because the war inside myself is everlasting
I can only feel the wisp of happiness in passing
I don’t know what to say when my therapist ask me what joy would look like
And I’d feel stupid for asking
When my friends tell me their problems I can’t help but feel envy
I wish my greatest problem was if a boy liked me
Instead I have death as an eternal enemy
Looming over me
They tell me drama follows me wherever I go
Like my life can be compared to a theme of a silly sitcom show
Why don’t you try fighting death ?
Every day I wake up I choose to take another breath
How’s that for drama?
Do I have to videotape my panic attacks for everyone to see how screwed my head is?
Do you want to see the personal hell it created ?
Will you wipe my tears from my eyes
Will you give me words of love to match my cries?
Will you tell me to live when I feel like I might die ?
Maybe you will take me seriously then
And that’s the problem
I’m not fragile
I’m not gray with frail bones and I won’t be for awhile
Don’t even think about treating me like I’m senile
If you believe that I’m dying too how can I live ?
If you look at me with those pity eyes I don’t think I’ll want to have another breath to give
All I need is an ear
My fight with death isn’t yours but it could be yours for you to hear
If you just ask me “what can I do?” instead of “if you’re okay”
Now I might not even know what to say or know how to help me find my way
But it doesn’t matter
By asking that one question..my life you might’ve saved
Don’t ask me if I’m fine
Cause no, I’m not okay
Unruly Bodies 
Hi. I just want to let you know that I see you. I hear you. I understand you. Being severely depressed is like being put in a box while you watch the world around you pass you by. Things do get better. You have a life ahead of you that you have not lived. I know that you have dreams you want to accomplish despite the fact that achieving them seem distant right now. Take some steps to make yourself feel calm, cool, and collected. Reground yourself with who you are. You are loved. Sending so much love and light your way. Keep your head up because you got this and you will win this battle. Your life is valuable and worth living.
This piece is oh so powerful, and you captured how it feels to be depressed in this day and age where mental illness is romanticized and glorified so much that the greater public has almost lost how debilitating it really is. Trying to keep your head up in a world that actively tries to drown out anyone that doesn’t function the way it expects people to has to be one of the worst experiences someone can have, and I’m so sorry that you are going through that. Finding the words to console you would be finding the words to console myself, and I don’t have those yet. What I can tell you though is that you are not alone, and you never will be as long as you believe that people will look out for you and you can do the same for them. Your struggles do not have to be yours alone to bear, and maybe that is how we will all heal.
Your piece is beautiful, it describes my mood every time I say im ok, which is alot. I feel like when people ask they’re not looking for real answers just based on how frequently they ask it. To that point, I don’t think ive answered them honestly once. I dont think that I ever will because to do that would mean they really see how sick I am which is something I won’t allow. You talk about hanging on by threads and wishing you were dead, the loud voices with no off switch, and feeling misunderstood. Well, I understand you all too well and even though I wish I didnt feel the same as you, its calming to know the captivating dread I feel on a daily basis isn’t out of the ordinary. Depression is so funny sometimes, but not funny haha.