They tell me I'm weak

That I'm doing it wrong

That my reality does not fit the expectation

Why do I listen to them?

Is it really them?

Or is the dripping paintbrush spilling unwanted blood onto my mind from your artistic hand?

Is my perception of the pronoun 'you' defined in the unheard part of my mind as a silent cry for help

Directed at me?

Could these protests really be from a more familiar source?

Whenever I confront them,

I already know these things,

Like a long-lost church-goer,

Giving Sunday mornings a second chance

And remembers why he gave up.

I go from happy to jealous in negative two thoughts

Meaning I think of others before myself

In the most selfish way.

What the real voices are saying is

Be you.

You shouldn't care what other people think.

Be proud of who you are.

Yeah, well what if I can't?

What if I don't want to...

They tell me, 'don't change for anyone'

But what if I want to change for me?

Is that another addition to the onslaught of voices saying I'm no one?

Nobody's perfect

But it's that strive for perfection that keeps us alive and changes us for the better.

So don't expect me to give up.

This isn't natural to question your own purpose

And to be lost.

Don't you dare tell me everybody goes through it and

It's just a phase.

If that's the case

Get out from under the over-crushing weight of your ego

And help me through it.

There are better days.

There are worse days.

I've realized that it's ignorant to think

Be Yourself.

I understand that

I need to find the treasure

That is hiding

To spend it.

But,

I need help.

I need someone to be my guide

And I've realized its

Arrogant to believe the rumors

That only the depressed people need

Help.

Tall people can feel short sometimes.

Sweet people can feel sour sometimes.

Happy people can feel sad sometimes.

Proud people can feel like the enter foundation of their life

is being blasted away in an eternal explosion

and everything they stand for and on is

gone.

Well...

Here I am.