Chair

Hi i am anxiety

I like to eat finger nails

And kick people in the stomach

Hi i am depression

I like to think about everything wrong and make it 3x worse for an extra effect

Hi i am a teenager

I choose to have anxiety and depression

Oh wait

No i don't

A lot of people like to say that we choose to have a mental illness

I love biting my fingernails till there is nothing left to bite

I love debating whether i should crash my car or not

I love these things

Oh wait

No i don't

Physically

I don't look sick

But when you look closely

You can see the bags formed over long nights of crying and fighting my own demons

You can see the bleeding coming out of my fingernails because i decided to go past the nail bedding

You can see the scratches on my arms from the constant anxiety i can't get rid of

I don't choose my illness

It chose me

My illness sits on me like an old grandma who sits on her favorite chair everyday on the porch

And i let it

I let it consume me until I can not feel myself breathing anymore

I am the chair

I let people sit on me

I let emotions settle into me

I cannot get up and just walk away

I am a chair

I love all of these things

Oh wait

No i don't

Stop telling me i choose these things

Stop telling me to relax

Stop telling me to think positively

Instead

Put me in a museum

Where no one can sit on me

But i am seen as beautiful and untouched