You loved me and I was scared. I am unloved so I crawl inward, inward.
I am a burden to those who love me. I am a text book spewing the definition of depression.
I still think I can handle it on my own. I am a textbook definition.
I have absolutely no idea how to ask for help. I want to refuse it. I can’t stop refusing it. I’m fine. I am a textbook definition.
I cannot say anything or I will lose my job. If I don’t say anything I will be ineffective at my job. I can’t figure out what’s true and STOP asking me if I’m okay. I’m just fucking listening to music. If everyone could just stop asking me questions please for 10 minutes just let me sit.
Just let me sit here do not look at or speak to me. If you really cared you would let me be alone for 10 fucking minutes. I loathe myself for being a textbook definition.
They said this might happen again and I laughed and said “I’ll never let myself get that deep”. I can’t remember how I crawled out last time. Did someone drag me?