A day in the Life of a Clinically Depressed Teen

It would be too easy to say that I am suicidal
That word and stereotype don’t even begin to touch what I feel
Because in the end it’s the feelings that hurt the most
It’s the headache you get when the suns shines one your face
It’s the bile that rolls up your throat when that clock hits 7
That gnawing telling you that it’s no use
The painstaking groan of yours when you go against its wisdom

It’s the longing glances at the traffic going by
The way you mind formulate who it would feel to be crushed beneath metal
That rush as you adrenaline pumps making you want to do it.
Instinct tell you that it will be quick and almost painless
If you time it right you won’t even feel it

But you continued walking to school ignoring the wind of a fast driver passing you by
You try and tell your head to quick hurt
You yell at your stomach to quit cramping
Your back and muscle protest they want more rest
eight hours isn’t nearly enough sleep. And last night got only got five

At school you cower as once again the homework
for last night slipped your mind and you look down
and gaze at the question that you make as IDK
you used to understand what it meant but now the word
escapes your memory because your neck is cramping again


you go home and star at you razor mom always keeps naked ones about.
How sharp it is
how prettily the blade catches the light.
You want to scrape away the
Scab on you finger
You got it when you held you pointer in a flame for too log
You were so numb that you wanted to feel something
Even you back, and head, and stomach were silent
But the burn felt good
And you know that the razor will feel good

But mom just came home
You nearly cry as she smiles at you
The corners of your lips turn and you smile as well
At least one of you are happy
It is nine o’clock
You have at least three hours if not more until your body will let you sleep
Then tomorrow as the feeling of mind numb depression kicks in
Is another day of self hatred and isolation.