I know I smile but that doesn't mean I'm happy. And I know I laugh but that doesn't mean I'm not depressed. It means I'm insecure and I care about what people say and think. I know I shouldn't but I care if you think I'm fat or skinny, ugly or pretty I care about every little thing. I close my eyes and cry for help but then I realise no one can hear me because I'm drowning and I can't pull myself up. I am walking around in circles hoping next time it'll be different but it never is. How long before I give up trying? How long before every little bit of hope dries out? And what if that moment is now? What if all I have inside me is sadness and self hate? I don't remember what happiness feels like anymore because my shadows and my demons are feeding off my insecurities and I keep feeding them and making them stronger. What if I can't stop the bully? What if the bully is me? I am the ground that's making me fall and not allowing me to get back up. I am the water that's drowning me and not letting me breathe. I am the solution to my problem but I don't let myself fix it because I manage to convince myself that I'm not good enough. I convince myself that I don't deserve anything I have. But what else is there to loose when my heart is already lost. People try to pull me up but I convince myself all they're trying to do is choke me when it's actually me who's killing me. Teachers say, if you're upset or there's something wrong tell an adult or someone you trust they'll help. No they won't. No they will not. They won't because they don't want to listen or because these are the things that they teach us not to talk about. Happiness is a choice so choose it, they say and I say depression isn't a choice but it does make choices for you. One of the choices it makes is to cloud happiness and hope. Cloud confidence and self love. Tears are rushing down my cheeks and blades are cutting through my veins.  "I'm fine" I'll say when you ask me, and you'll believe me, actually no you won't you'll pretend you do because you don't want to waste your time trying to fix me when you know it's hopeless. What happens if no one one hears my melodies and no one reads my words? If no one sings my songs and no one feels my pain? But they do, don't they? They do. They hide behind a smile and an Instagram filter and act like their life is perfect. We all do it thinking that if people believe we're ok someday we'll believe it too. Sometimes a smile says more than tears because it shows you how weak you are because you can't even manage to admit the truth to yourself. I am my undoing. I am my own end.