People always say good job
For fighting off that illness
Because I got out of bed
When depression called to me from the pillows.

But why do I feel like I'm not fighting?
And feel bad when I heard it said
I hurt and hurt all day and night
And live inside my head.

I try to go out and do things.
And I try to not feel sad.
I guess if that is fighting
Then I'm not doing all that bad.

But fighting means you're trying
And it means it is going to end
Whether you win or lose
Does not matter when you're dead.

If fighting means a finish line.
Where you are first or last.
Then I'm not fighting for a thing.
Because I don't see an end.

They talk like taking small steps
Is something that should be rewarded.
But what small steps am I really taking
When I spend every day wishing I was dead.

Because you know what it is hard--
It really f***ing is--
To wake up every morning
And count the seconds down till the end

To know that by the time
You've gone to brush your teeth
The urge to fade into the walls
Will swallow you whole.

I wake up every morning
With the weight of a brick on my chest.
I don't see a reason to try anymore
I should just let myself be crushed.

I've been drowning in my sadness so long
I don't remember how to forget.
The darkness swallows me whole
And I suffocate under the weight of my chest.

So please just know that fighting
Isn't something I can do
Because fighting means an ending
And I don't want to live without you