When I was little,
If I fell,
They would ask me where it hurt.
I would point to my knee, or elbow,
And they would make it better.
But I've noticed,
As I get older,
If I fall,
They don't ask where it hurts.

I sit quietly in my room,
Waiting for someone to ask me,
Where it hurts.
I'd point to my head and heart,
Because that is where,
It hurts the most.
But nobody makes it better.

I'm good for a bit.
I'll smile more, talk more,
Eat and sleep normally.
But then something happens.
Like a button is pressed somewhere,
And all I am left with is the darkness of my mind.
But each time,
I sink deeper and deeper.
And I'm fearful;
Terrified that one day I won't make it up again.

I feel like I'm gasping for air,
Screeching for help.
But everyone just stares,
Confused expressions,
Trying to figure out how I'm struggling,
When they have no trouble.
It makes me feel insane.
What's wrong about me?
They don't get it.

It's hard to explain.
I'm not trying to act lazy,
I'm just so tired.
No motivation to win.
I don't know why this is happening.
I don't know how to tell them I'm broken,
Without feeling needy.
I can't open up,
Without fear of being judged.
I cry,
Even though the tears are acid.

I just want, I NEED them to see that I'm hurting,
Without me saying.
Because my words are bleeding,
Waiting for them to come stitch me up,
And make me better,
Although I know that's not their responsibility,
And they would be better without me.
I just need them to SEE me,
For the first time.

Most days,
it's hard to look in the mirror,
At times,
I'm convinced that I wouldn't be missed,
If I were gone.
The scars betray me and spill my secrets.
I cry for no reason,
And I don't know,
How I'm supposed to function,
When my mind can be so scary.

But,
I got out of bed this morning,
That's a start.