I wake up everyday and I just wanna be happy, but my brain does not cooperate; it’s honestly tragic. Living with depression aint what most people think, I try so motherfuckin hard but I’m still on the brink. Things could seem perfect but in my head but nothings workin, I think that I need a surgeon to cut me open, observe it; please tell me what is wrong with me, cuz I don’t understand, used to hide these problems behind drugs though now I’m a different one; stopped drinkin and droppin, diagnosin my problems. Now, I know the issue but no idea how to stop em’, it’s the craziest thing cuz I can see it when it happens but I can’t stop these feelings from rushin in and then crashin, I can feel the collision all the way down in my stomach – like I got punched in the gut and there aint no runnin from it; I could be up at the summit, then one thing happens – I plummet. They tell me take my meds and calm down but I don’t like feelin nothin. Now let me tell ya’ll folks somethin, I’ve been like this my whole life; I’ve been tryin to hide it and fight it but that shit aint go right – my methods of copin was just drinkin and smoking, anything I could take, I’d pop it in and keep goin. But that was just me not knowin that I was makin it worse, if I had stayed on that path, I’d probably be in a hearse cuz I was feelin so cursed, nothin ever went my way and nothin but negative thoughts was present in my brain. Layin down at night but no sleep comin my way, my brain wont shut the fuck up – it’s been doin this all day. Do you know what it’s like to fight with yourself? Tryin to seem happy without likin yourself? It all could be over just by blastin yourself; but I aint the one to give up in this fight, I need help. See, with this problem at hand, it’s hard to talk to your friends cuz you don’t want someone to judge you and look at you different; so I meet paper with pen, open up in these notes – it’s really all I can do to get these words out my throat. I aint lookin for someone to feel sorry for me, nah; I’m just tryin to explain all this pain I got inside. When all you thought is you aint good enough when you was growin up, it makes it hard to see you good enough when you grown up. Fake it til you make it, that’s what everybody says to do – so if the shoe fits, I might as well wear it too. See, I’m the funny guy, makin jokes and deflectin attention cuz I don’t want anybody noticin that my soul is missin, and if you feelin that I’m distant then you probably right; people ask what’s wrong, I say “nothin, I’ll be alright.” and I continue to fight, it’s an everyday struggle – like I’m at war with myself when my emotions start to bubble.
I just want someone to talk to. Someone who doesn’t know me, won’t judge me & who will not only listen, but will honestly care.
I just need a person. Just one.