Hey mom
I. Am. Anxious.
Are you sure?
I think you might just WANT
Something to be wrong with you
Hey dad
I. Am. Depressed.
Are you sure?
You LAUGH an awful lot
To be depressed
Oh... I don’t know
What do I know?
I mean..
It’s not like I cry in my bedroom every other night
It’s not like I don’t eat because my stomach hurts from being in a knot
It’s not like I feel useless all the time
It’s not like I feel like I’m not good enough
It’s not like I’m dying on the inside..
Right?...
Do I have to take you back in time?
Show you everything I’ve done
Listen to me screaming at God to help me
Watch me hate myself for being anything less than “perfect”
Or... wait... that last one is still happening right now...
Would you like the present then?
Me right now.
The me writing this poem
Wanting you to listen
While I try to scream
But get ignored
The present me
That is terrified of herself
Terrified of what goes on in her own mind
But at the same time
I don’t need help...
Obviously...