May Day

I like my depression too much to try to get out.

It hurts, and I feel like crap...but I like the pain.

I don't want your sympathy, I just want to sulk...just a little more, please?

This is all so wrong.

I wasn't abused as a child. I was never picked on. I've always been talented. My parents don't talk hatefully to me, I've always been supported but not overpushed. I've always had lots of friends. Nothing tragic...What is so wrong with me? Why does my inside ache?

I feel like a slug, and you poured salt on me...now everyone is staring at my guts...they're glaring at my insecurities. I try to stuff them back and suck it up, but you can tell I'm faking.

You can tell I'm just too lazy to pick up the pieces.

I like laying here with my chalk outline.

I'm ready whenever you are.

Over and Out.

**When I was about 7 I would cry for hours and pray for God to take me away. "Just make me fly." I would remember the verse saying that if you had faith enough you could move mountains. All I ever wanted was to die. I had faith...but every morning I would wake up dissappointed. Steve Chase was right, I haven't changed since first grade..I just played princess for a while.**