Depression Makes Me Feel Like A Dull Knife, You Know You Can Still Use It But It’s Still Dull Even

I write letters that never get written back.

I write letters that never get written back. I send love that is never received. I say thank you to those that don't appreciate it. I say things that don’t mean as much to the person they’re said to. I run when things get hard. I’m quiet when I feel out of place. I roll my eyes when I’m too scared to speak my truth. Maybe it’s time to burn those letters. Leave those rooms. Speak with my chest. Run into the fire and face everything head on. But here I stand. Quiet. Alone. In my own head as it’s always been.

I’ve forgotten myself recently

I’ve forgotten myself recently, I lost who I wanted to be. Or maybe I’ve never known who I am.

I know my weaknesses. I’m quiet, tired, soft, gentle, fragile, and an observer of those opposite of that. I yearn to find the confidence that lies in being outspoken, energetic, proud, and stable.

Maybe one day, I’ll find myself.

Why am I the exception?

I should’ve seen it from the start, perhaps I was always a henchman sent to do your biddings. but when it came to my knees being scraped, I got up on my own. I covered my cuts with bandages I found used on the side of the road. or maybe I was seeking comfort in places where I shouldn't have. I always do this. I'm so naive. I wish I didn't fall for every nicety. Sometimes I wish I was meaner. But it hurts me to be mean, and it hurts to be nice to myself too.

Nightmares

Some nights I have the most vivid nightmares and I can’t tell if they’re memories from the past or wicked hypotheses about what tomorrow will look like if I continue the way that I am the dreams hurt, like cuts on my arm that only I can see. scars burned white with every itch maybe i'm broken, truly, unbelievably broken.

and I have no one to blame but myself

I feel like everyone hates me

I feel like everyone hates me, I know it's in my head. Or maybe it's just the fact I've been boiling inside with anger bright as red. Or maybe it's a hidden animosity, where I tried so hard to be liked, that from the start it was set up for failure because I shifted myself outright. Maybe if I was louder they'd like me more? Maybe if I had more followers they'd think I was worth keeping around? Maybe if I was prettier they'd think I wasn't worth comparing? Maybe if I kept my tears quiet I wouldn't be so annoying? I'm sorry. I hope it's all in my head.

every time

every time I think I’m doing a bit better, someone has to stay something ten times worse that makes me regress back into the depths of hell that took me so long to get out of.

or maybe I’m just blaming everyone except me. so like always, the guilt eats me up inside.

I wish you were nicer, I wish I was too. But it’s funny when I speak like you do, then I’m the b!tch instead of you.

Your eyebrows raise with questions that are rhetorical. But when I follow suit I’m suddenly the b!tch that gained an attitude.

It’s easy to say

It’s easy to say I hope you’ve been well, than calling me up and having a meaningful conversation. It’s easy to say I support you, than showing up on the night of my performance. It’s easy to tell everyone that you know me, than actually knowing how I'm doing that day. It’s easy to say I hope you had a good day, than asking how my day went. It's easy to say I hope you get better, than supporting me on each step of the way. But I'd like to think loving me would be easy.

some days

some days i get so lonely, but i also get so tired from saying hello. so i stare at the wall. the nice, blank, non-talkative wall. and it stares back at me. shining the sun in its reflection, letting the moon take its color. and days pass by. and still, i sit there staring at the wall. waiting, watching, my life pass me by.

so there i remain. staring at a wall that won't hurt my feelings, won't say i'm not enough, and won't take me for granted.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry you think about wanting to d!e everyday. I’m sorry that life has been so hard that to you, that’s the only answer.

I’m sorry that to me, that’s the only answer through this pain is eternal slumber. And I understand, I don’t see an answer out either.

I wish I was loved

I wish I was loved, unconditionally. through days when my energy sucks up a room with my blank eyes. through moments when I’m too scared to speak up for myself. through times when I want to speak my mind and instead keep quiet because I’m scared of being alone. through thoughts of wanting to run falling off a cliff when I can’t take it anymore. through my soft voice screaming to be heard when the winds push me off my feet.

I want to— love myself unconditionally. through days where i want to give up and yell at myself to do better, be better. I wish, I loved, unconditionally.