"At thirteen I started crying as silently as my wrists
started bleeding. I never understood why I always
felt too heavy, like I was buried under bricks and no
matter how much weight I lost, I felt like I took up too
much space in this room, in this world. I never
understood why I pushed the word sadness out of my
mind and convinced myself that I was fine even when
I was sitting in a bathtub full of my own blood. I never
understood why I walked around with a mask that some
people called a smile, and why I always felt like a fraud
at the end of the day. I never understood the way happiness
was suppose to feel and how people could call it a choice
because fuck, if it is a choice I wouldn’t be staring at the
walls wondering why I’m even breathing. I never felt loved
and I thought it was something I’d feel after letting him into
my bed, but after kissing boys whose lips I knew better than
their own personality, I still felt nothing but numb. I never understood why I was afraid of the doctor and afraid of
being told I was clinically depressed. The day the news
broke I still didn’t comprehend it, was I going to be like
this forever?
Four years later, two medications, sessions of therapy,
my wrists no longer bleed but my soul does.
I’m seventeen now, and I still don’t understand."

i.c. // ”clinically depressed” (via delicatepoetry)

(via veiled-in-deep-red)

elissamvp:

When you say something smart and people are shocked

image

(via gnarly)