Who are you, really? You are not a name or a height or a weight or a gender. You are not an age and you are not where you are from. You are your favourite books and the songs stuck in your head. You are your thoughts and what you eat for breakfast on a Sunday morning. You are a thousand things but people choose to see the million things you are not. You are not where you are from, You are where you are going, And I'd like to go there too.
People say she's a beauty She hears it all the time. But when she thinks about herself, She just can't tell why. She looks into the mirror Wishing for perfection. She does her make up and straightens her hair, Then frowns at her own refelection. She throws the mirror down. It shatters on the floor. She runs to her bed crying; She can't take it anymore, She wants a better smile, And different colour hair. She hates her body, nose and feet. And wishes her freckles weren't there. She doesn't talk to many boys. She's not popular at school. She's hoping for attention, And wishes she was cool. You think she's very happy, But that's really just a lie. Her insecurities and pains, Are hidden in disguise. She goes back to the bathroom, quietly shuts the door. She picks up a piece of glass And sits down on the floor. She connects the puzzle together- A puzzle made of glass She starts to think; she thinks a lot, Then she thinks about her past. She remembers when she was little, When nobody was mean. It didn't matter how you looked or dressed- It's so tough to be a teen. She glued together the pieces Still sitting on the cold bathroom tiles. She looks at herself and sees: She's a broken girl in a broken world forced to fake a smile.
Mum: You never do anything for me. Me: I fake a smile, I hide my problems from you to avoid you getting stressed, I cover up the scars, I don't talk to you so you don't have to pretend to put up with me and I act like I'm mentally stable so you don't have to worry.
Dirt. My grandmother once said That every flower has to go through dirt, And that in times of suffering to never give up Because eventually I would become A strong and beautiful flower, Standing on my own. -I've started to think That these struggles might never turn me into a beautiful flower. All my life I've only seen good things happen, To other people. Maybe I'm not supposed to be a flower, Maybe I'm not even a seed. Maybe I'm just, Dirt. -Josephin August
Depression is like a storm, It starts slow, Beating away at you slowly, Then it becomes stronger, And causes more damage. Then it stops, And you think you're fine, That it's getting better, Like it's safe to go outside now, And enjoy the finer things in life, Kind of like the eye of a storm, Then out of nowhere, It hits you again, Knocking you down, Harder than before, Until you're no more. It swallows you, Clogs your vision. So that you can't see how close to ending it is. And some don't make it. Thinking that the only way to stop the storm, Is to stop themselves. -K.Q.M.
She is sad She is hurt She is dying She is alone She is lonely She is a mess She is judged She is ignored She is suicidal She is stressed She is confused She is fúcked up She is depressed She is misunderstood She is tired but still living She is hurt but won't show it She is screaming but is silent She is in pain but still smiling She is the girl staring back at you in the mirror.
Me:*Eating* My Brother: Why do you eat so quickly? Me: There's less chance of you stealing it. My Brother: Haven't you ever heard the concept of sharing & caring? Me: That concept doesn't apply to food.