Who am I? That's a good question because I'm not sure if I know either.
I'm seventeen years old and I suppose you could consider me your typical teenager. I'm lazy. I'll stay in bed all day if I can. I'm a junk eater. I'll eat what I want when I want. I have constant mood swings when I can be happy and sad all at once. But there's a lot more to me than meets the eye. I feel like I'm a barrier, protecting myself from exposing the truth. And that truth is that I think about death every day. I wonder why I'm here. What purpose do I have? I'll contradict myself. That I'm lucky to be where I am, that I should be appreciative of what I've got. I'd give all those sentimental values away just so I could say I am happy with myself, my life.
I don't know why I'm not happy, I have great friends, a decent social life, parents who are together, basically everything any other person would ever want. But, it's not enough. I just feel so selfish. I wonder if I died tomorrow, would people care? Would people grieve? Would people even come to my funeral? I guess that makes me sick, an attention seeker. I'm not proud of it bvy any means, but I have to be honest with myself considering I can't with anyone else.
I don't think I ever will feel accepted by anyone, I don't think anyone can help because I seclude myself. A close friend of mine once said, 'do you ever feel like you don't belong? You look in the mirror and there's a stranger looking back'. She was joking, but the irony is that I feel exactly like that. I don't know who I am, I feel like I'm just following a flock of sheep, destined to just live and die.
I tell others who are feeling sorry for themselves to keep their head up because there's always tomorrow. It will always get better. They shouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of being upset. But look at me, I'm a hypocrite. I can never see the brighter picture for myself or take my own advice. I care too much of what other people think of me. I'm insecure, and no matter what I do or change I will never feel like I'm good enough. People laugh at me, it's not just me, everyone gets the torment from other people. I laugh it off as if I don't care or that 'I've heard it all before'. It still hurts every time, no matter how many times you get stabbed, it'll still always hurt.
I am depressed. I find it hard to accept it for myself. I thought I was a strong person, I thought I could endure something sparking the flint to form a blaze that circulates me like a pack of wolves. I say I'm tired when I feel depressed, I'm nearly always 'tired'. Sometimes I feel so happy, but one small thing and it's back eating away at me like a disease spreading through my body.
I'm a barrel of emotions who feels different with every roll. I'm a coward. I say I want to end it all right here, right now, but I'm too pathetic to even go through with it. I'm too emotionally attached to people to bare through the pain. I just wish someone will do it for me so I don't have to cope with the guilt.
I've only told one person about my depression, my suicidal thoughts, I guess I'm praying someone I know will read this and realise it's me hiding behind the smile. That they'll understand, be able to relate to hwo I feel, I wish I had someone who I could confide in. Some call me the happiest person they know, they can only see the reflection, not the cracks in between. I'm too scared to say anything or admit that I feel this way. How long will I be able to cope with the hyenas that roam the area and cackle and attackle whilst my back is turned. I don't know. Because to me I've had enough and it won't be long until it pushes me off the cliff to the inevitable.