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Literature Text
I feel like I'm in a glass box;
Everyone can see me, and if I shout loud enough,
They maybe can hear me.
But no one hears my whispers.
I feel like I'm dying.
I don't want to die.
Someone, anyone,
Help me.
I feel like I'm fading away.
I'm becoming a ghost once more,
Being overlooked, forgotten.
Please don't let me waste away.
I'm here; can't you see me?
I'm screaming; can't you hear me?
I'm reaching out for you; can you feel me?
I'm pulling away; don't you notice?
please help me…
Everyone can see me, and if I shout loud enough,
They maybe can hear me.
But no one hears my whispers.
I feel like I'm dying.
I don't want to die.
Someone, anyone,
Help me.
I feel like I'm fading away.
I'm becoming a ghost once more,
Being overlooked, forgotten.
Please don't let me waste away.
I'm here; can't you see me?
I'm screaming; can't you hear me?
I'm reaching out for you; can you feel me?
I'm pulling away; don't you notice?
please help me…
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No structure, no real thought about this. Done in less than five minutes. In other words: This poem sucks some major ass.
But everything in it is true.
I thought I was okay. I thought I was going to stay okay. I was wrong.
I feel like my friends don't even see me there. Well, they see me, but with a simple "I'm fine" they leave me alone. I do not blame any of them
Some people are just taking advantage of me. Expecting me to be there for them but not being there for me. Looking at me for nothing more than the answers.
I feel so alone, so isolated. Like I'm really fading away. It's happened before. It wouldn't be entirely shocking for it to happen again. But I don't know if I can handle being forgotten again.
I don't want to die. I'm not suicidal. But I don't know if I can take much more of this.
People do notice when I'm upset. They do ask me if I'm okay, and leave me alone when I say I am. It's what I want, right? Then why do I want them to look me in the eyes and say "No, you're not." and help me through it?
I feel unwanted, unloved. I feel unimportant, useless, worthless. A waste of space. All of it.
A symptom of Atypical Depression: Having depression that temporarily lifts with good news or positive events but returns later.
That and so much more...I think I really have it.
Every time the good feeling leaves, the bad comes back worse. It just keeps getting worse! I want it to go away. I try to be positive; I try to be happy. I just wish it would work.
I told my mom and my doctor about this over the summer. Neither believe me.
It's whatever. And probably for the best. That label can keep me from getting my dream job. And I want that job so I can help educate the young and then still be there for them.
I need help, but if I get it, I'm fucked.
Someone save me. I need a hero....
But everything in it is true.
I thought I was okay. I thought I was going to stay okay. I was wrong.
I feel like my friends don't even see me there. Well, they see me, but with a simple "I'm fine" they leave me alone. I do not blame any of them
Some people are just taking advantage of me. Expecting me to be there for them but not being there for me. Looking at me for nothing more than the answers.
I feel so alone, so isolated. Like I'm really fading away. It's happened before. It wouldn't be entirely shocking for it to happen again. But I don't know if I can handle being forgotten again.
I don't want to die. I'm not suicidal. But I don't know if I can take much more of this.
People do notice when I'm upset. They do ask me if I'm okay, and leave me alone when I say I am. It's what I want, right? Then why do I want them to look me in the eyes and say "No, you're not." and help me through it?
I feel unwanted, unloved. I feel unimportant, useless, worthless. A waste of space. All of it.
A symptom of Atypical Depression: Having depression that temporarily lifts with good news or positive events but returns later.
That and so much more...I think I really have it.
Every time the good feeling leaves, the bad comes back worse. It just keeps getting worse! I want it to go away. I try to be positive; I try to be happy. I just wish it would work.
I told my mom and my doctor about this over the summer. Neither believe me.
It's whatever. And probably for the best. That label can keep me from getting my dream job. And I want that job so I can help educate the young and then still be there for them.
I need help, but if I get it, I'm fucked.
Someone save me. I need a hero....
© 2011 - 2024 TearMeApartIDontCare
Comments27
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I like it alot. I enjoy writing about this concept. My friends and I play card games and mind games, and one of my strategies is instilling this kind of feeling of despondency and helplessness. It's also a tone that I very much enjoy writing in.