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Description
I feel safer in the shadows where my presence can't be felt, because judgemental eyes are waiting to proclaim I can't be helped. I can't just get over it; depression's a disease and suicide's a symptom. Open up your eyes before I become another victim! I want to learn to smile, I need somebody there, I want to talk about it, but nobody seems to care! If I say that I'm depressed, people tell me to "just stop" like it's a choice I made and to "be happy with what you've got". That's not even the problem, but somehow I doubt you knew it. Instead of understanding, you've elected to add to it.

And that hurts. It hurts more than you care to comprehend. Subtle tones of self-hatred shade the words that I pretend have meaning. Does the guilty glint you see shining in my eye tell the story of a sufferer? Then why'd you look away and cast me out? I don't know what to say or how to deal with it out loud. I internalize the pain and bottle up emotion 'till I'm a raging hurricane in the middle of the ocean; destructive only to me but a spectacle to others. Like I'm something never seen before, such as the inside of a room shut tight with a clamp that never unlocks but inside it rests a tiny metal box that holds the cure for a disease that doesn't exist, and that's me; the walking paradox.

Description
I feel safer in the shadows where my presence can't be felt, because judgemental eyes are waiting to proclaim I can't be helped. I can't just get over it; depression's a disease and suicide's a symptom. Open up your eyes before I become another victim! I want to learn to smile, I need somebody there, I want to talk about it, but nobody seems to care! If I say that I'm depressed, people tell me to "just stop" like it's a choice I made and to "be happy with what you've got". That's not even the problem, but somehow I doubt you knew it. Instead of understanding, you've elected to add to it.

And that hurts. It hurts more than you care to comprehend. Subtle tones of self-hatred shade the words that I pretend have meaning. Does the guilty glint you see shining in my eye tell the story of a sufferer? Then why'd you look away and cast me out? I don't know what to say or how to deal with it out loud. I internalize the pain and bottle up emotion 'till I'm a raging hurricane in the middle of the ocean; destructive only to me but a spectacle to others. Like I'm something never seen before, such as the inside of a room shut tight with a clamp that never unlocks but inside it rests a tiny metal box that holds the cure for a disease that doesn't exist, and that's me; the walking paradox.