I wanted to use this poem to try to explain that people with depression don't intend to disappoint people and that we probably disappoint ourselves more than we can ever disappoint anyone else.

In addition, I thought this might help anyone who has depression and/or anxiety and this will let them know that they're not alone, as cliché as that sounds. Believe it or not, some people do understand, and others are fighting the same battle. Depression, anxiety, or any issues someone might be having (even if it's not related to mental illness)... it can be reassuring to know that someone else went through it and understands (although if you're anything like me, you'd never wish it on somebody else) and it's even more reassuring to know that someone went through it and survived.

Note: it won't let me separate the stanzas, so I apologize for that.

I wish people would understand, but I know what is true.

They never will understand, and if they don't understand that I'm drowning, how can they pull me to shore?

This battle is mine to fight, but it would still be amazing if I looked beside me and saw you.

But every time I look, you're never there, and I know that I can't stand on my own anymore.

My mind is confused and fractured and scattered.

My thoughts are mixed up and broken and I don't know where one thought begins and where another ends.

My heart is cracked and beaten and shattered.

I wonder what it would be like to have a friend that can mend a heart even after I've gone off the deep end.

I'm spiraling, falling down, down, down.

And no one can save me; no one can throw me a rope to hold on to.

Because it's too late; the colors have faded; I can't hear a sound.

All I can hear is silence, and I wonder where you have gone and why you didn't stay by my side when I needed you to help me begin anew.

I'm scared and afraid and I have no where else to go, no where else to turn.

I've been running for years, but my demons have finally caught up with me (or maybe I never left them behind at all).

I don't want pity or sympathy; all I want is a little concern

Because that would show me that you care, that you'll catch me when I fall.

I'm tired all the time; I'm so tired that it's exhausting to even breathe.

People keep calling me lazy; they keep telling me to do something, but what they don't understand is that it takes all of my energy to simply live another day.

They don't understand that black and white and gray is all I see.

They don't understand that I have no words left to say.

Some try to understand while others don't try at all.

Some try to connect with me; others stay away like I have a contagious disease.

Some try to talk to me; others don't even bother to call.

Some try to save me while others leave me to fend for myself in a war against my own mind, to drown in the dangerous seas.

I'm spiraling. Tumbling through thin air without a safety net.

I've reached a level of numbness, and I no longer feel the emotional agony, but is the numbness really any better?

They always say it's darkest right before the dawn, but what if you're stuck at the sunset?

Darkness is approaching (maybe it's already there), and the light is just out of reach as the rain starts to pour, and you pray you can survive the harsh weather.

Every day is a dark, stormy night.

You can't see any stars or the moon, and you certainly can't see the sun.

You can't find an ounce of light,

And sometimes (although you're ashamed to admit it) you wonder if there is a God or if he ever had a Son.

The thing with depression is that there is no tomorrow; there is no new day.

It is simply an endless bad day playing on a loop.

You try to keep the monsters at bay.

But they always fight their way through, no matter how many soldiers you station, no matter how many troops.

And at the end, you stand in silence because there is nothing left to say.

You feel like you've already lost the battle, already lost the race, and you don't even have a single friend left to send out a flare and tell you that your broken heart, they shall mend.

You stand alone on an empty battlefield, alive but wounded, and you fall to your knees.

And you pray for this war to be over, and as you sit there, waiting for a miracle and not receiving one, you wonder if this battle will ever come to an end.

And you surrender to the harsh seas of your mind and you wonder if this is all you will ever be- there is no end to this pain that you can see.

I'm spiraling. Falling further and further down the rabbit hole.

My body aches from the pain my mind feels as my battle wounds cry out in agony.

And all I have left is a shattered heart and a broken soul.

And I try to let go of this illness, this pain, but it is a part of me.

I know others have it worse; you don't need to remind me.

I'm not trying to be selfish or the center of attention.

I'm not trying to make you forget about the starving and the poor and the sick and those that cannot hear or move or see.

I can assure you that that is not my intention.

I just want a whisper of hope that I've been waiting for since I was a little girl.

That innocent child I was before still exists inside of me, in a place and time where it was safe and everyone was sweet and kind.

A child that thought she could take on the world

When in reality... she couldn't even save herself from her own mind.

Where am I now, you may ask.

I don't know; I'm still in the midst of a mind blowing hurt that never seems to go away.

I'm not sure if I will ever accomplish the mission of healing, which seems to be an impossible task.

I give up. On the ground, my weapons lay.

I let it hurt. I let it hurt until I can hurt no more.

My fate has been sealed.

Or so I thought as my hand was grabbed by another, and I struggled to shore.

And I finally began to heal.

I'm spiraling. Falling down a seemingly endless rabbit hole, but the ground is in sight.

I brace myself for impact, closing my eyes and not looking down.

I hug myself tight…

And I hit the ground.

(But when you've hit rock bottom, there's no where to go but up, right?

I have to believe that someday, the light will be in sight.)

Thank you all for reading this, and if you have depression, anxiety, or any mental illness (or if you're having any problems, even if they're not related to mental illness), I'm here if you want to talk (again, cliché saying, but a true saying). Sometimes our problems try to isolate us (I probably know that better than anyone), but it doesn't have to be that way.