Why is it that society is hypocrytical? No one can answer this question, because we're all a part of the system that makes depression a visitor in our own home. I'm one of them, I'll admit. I feel like a stranger in my own skin. Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you feel ignored. Tell me your story. I want to know, did it hurt? Was your past full of pain that you didn't deserve? Tell me your story, and I'll listen, with open arms. I'll sit with you and talk about this f***ed up world for hours, and maybe, I'll tell you how pain opened the door for my depression. Tell me you hate being ignored; tell me why. I'll tell you about the clouds in my brain and how they fog up my mind and keep me from functioning normally. I'll tell you I hate being ignored; I'll tell you why, and you'll understand. Tell me you understand. Tell me you hate being ignored.

Ignore me.