I wake up to the sound of rain
pattering on my roof.
I hope it will pass,
that it’s just a small rain shower.
But as I get up and get ready,
I discover what kind of day it will be.
It will be a gloomy day.
I sit on the couch,
hoping the rain will pass.
I look out the window,
watching it
and hoping it will clear up.
It doesn’t.


I sip my warm tea,
trying not to let the weather bring me down.
I try to ignore the relentless noise
of rain splashing the ground.
But the noise clouds my head,
I can’t rid of it.
I decide to take a nap,
trying to put my mind at ease.


I wake up forgetting for a second
what kind of day it is.
I open my window and remember
it’s a rainy day.
I can’t forget,
Mother Nature won’t let me.
Because depression is the weather
on a rainy day.

when someone tells me im pretty
or that im beautiful
or that they wish they had my brain
or they wish they could be me
all i can think
is how they’re lying

because who wants to have my fat stomach
or my disgusting thighs
or my ugly face
or my self-destructive mind
or my suicidal thoughts
or my depression

they’re probably trying to be nice
when they say they want to look like me
but they probably mean it
when they say they want my brain, my mind
because they don’t know what goes on up there
how i hate myself
how i am disgusted with myself
how i wish i didn’t wake up
how i wish were dead

but then again
how could they know
when i don’t tell them
or when they don’t ask

do you ever just
walk down the street
because you want to feel the wind blowing against your skin
see the sun shining in your eyes
watch small buds bloom into beautiful flowers
hear the children playing on their bicycles
smell your neighbour’s freshly cut grass

I do this often
but not for satisfaction
or happiness
or joy
I do it to know that the life around me is still going
the people near me are still going on with their lives
to know the world is still turning
even though mine’s stopped

usually I do this about once a day
after I do this I rush inside
I run upstairs
add a few cuts to my collection
wipe away my fresh tears
apply makeup to my permanently tear-stained cheeks
and carry on with my life
it’s routine and I do it every **** day

my mom once asked me about it
“why do you always run upstairs after you step outside?”
“what do you do in the bathroom all the time?”
“why do you always wear long sleeves?”
“why are your eyes always red and puffy?”
“why are only your cheeks covered in messy makeup?”

you know what I told her?
I tell her it’s none of her ******* business
as long as I’m still breathing
I’m fine

she doesn’t ask me questions anymore
I feel bad that I was so harsh to her
but I didn’t feel like talking to her about it
because I’ve heard what she has to say
about depression and suicide
she thinks people are wasting their life being sad
when they have absolutely nothing to be sad about
she thinks people who are suicidal are ungrateful
because “god” gave them the gift of life
and they are ungrateful for wanting to end it
they are selfish for wanting to die
because they are hurting the people that love them

well you know what I have to say to that?
that’s a load of *******
because people don’t choose to be depressed
they don’t choose to be sad all the time
they don’t choose to hate themselves
they don’t ******* choose to wish they were dead

depression is not a ******* choice
suicidal thoughts are not a ******* choice
because if it was a ******* choice,
no one would **** themselves,
therapists would be out of a job,
happiness would be more common


you know,
so many people I talk to
think depression and suicide are silly
they think people who deal with these things
are attention-******
and it angers me so ******* much
it fills me with rage
it makes me want to punch a ******* wall
but then it makes me sad
because these people are my friends
my family
my peers
people I’ve known for so long
people who think they know me
they are calling me these things
without even knowing it

and it’s funny because you think you know someone
you think you know what’s going through their mind
you think you know when they’re happy and sad
you think you know them better than they know themselves
you think you think you think
but you don’t know
you have no ******* clue!
you don’t know I lie awake until four in the ******* morning
thinking about how much I hate myself
you don’t know I come home every day and slit my wrists
until they gush blood everywhere
you don’t know how much I wish I didn’t wake up this morning
wishing I would have just disappeared into infinity
you don’t know I have to go take a walk outside
and watch everyone around me go on with their lives
for me to remember the world isn’t crumbling down
even though it feels like it is
you don’t know that I put eye drops in my eyes
to stop my eyes from being puffy and red after I cry
you don’t know that by the time I fall asleep
my pillows are soaked in my tears
you don’t know that I have to use my curling iron to burn myself
so that I can feel something, anything
you don’t know that behind this smile I’m falling apart
and holding on for dear life
you just don’t know

well guess what?
now you ******* know
now you know that I’m the attention-*****
that I’m the selfish *****
that I’m ungrateful brat
and now I ******* know
what I am to you
all I ever will be to you
and that no matter how much I try to reason with you
try to change your mind, your opinion
I will never be more than what you think I am

so maybe one of these days
when you see me walking down the street
taking in the area around me
you will finally know what I’m doing
and you can finally understand why

flowers bloom
flowers grow
flowers live
flowers die

flowers start as little buds
tinier than a centipede
they grow into beautiful living things
hoping to find their place in the world
they live out the remainder of their lives
depending solely on themselves
then they shrivel up
lose their strength
lose their passion
lose their will
and they die
they leave the earth
the place that didn’t help them
that didn’t care about them
the place that let them die

It’s funny
When my stomach hurts
Or I’m throwing up
Or I have a headache
I can stay home
Take the day to relax, get better

But when my brain’s suffocating
When I feel like killing myself
When I cry myself to sleep
When I feel numb to any physical feeling
It’s not a valid reason to stay home
People tell me to get over it

What’s the difference?
Being mentally sick is the same thing as being physically sick,
Maybe even worse

But if you can't see the pain
Then it’s not there, right?

You are fat
You are ugly
You are weak
You are pathetic
You are repulsive
You are revolting
You are rude
You are annoying
You are clingy
You are a *****
Why do you have friends?
Why do people like you?
You ruin everyone’s life
You are taking up space on this earth
You don’t deserve anything good to happen to you
Go ahead, one more cut
You deserve the pain
This is what you get

Your body makes people wish they were blind
Your voice makes people wish they were deaf

You disgust me
You make me want to **** myself

Do us all a favour an commit suicide
So we can finally be rid of you