"It just started happening.
I can't tell you when because I don't remember.
I can't tell you why because I don't know.
I just woke up one morning, and I just felt weak.
I tell people that I'll be fine but I feel that tomorrow won't be any better.
I tell everyone to be strong knowing I'm the weakest one in the group.
No one understands what's going on inside my head and I Can't Explain It.
I want to be strong, I really do, but I can't help but cry because I don't think things will get better.
My emotions are everywhere and mixed so I can't pinpoint or seperate my problems.
I say I don't want to talk about it, but in reality I really do.
But I'm afraid of your reaction.
I'm afraid that you'll never see me as an equal again.
I'm afraid of the pity in your eyes when you realize how screwed up I am.
So just stop saying 'Just be happy'.
You think that I chose to 'Just be depressed'?
It just started happening."
~(Y/n) (L/n)
The English teacher stared at written poem from her favorite student's work. Mrs. Mark had (Y/n) for herlast class and she was glad she got to meet someone as bright as (Y/n). But she guesses he's not bright in the wayshe hoped he was.
She had her fair share in depression when she was a teen. It took longer than expected to get better. She doesn't want everyone else to feel what she did.
Turning the paper, she sees a second poem.
I held on to you because...well because I cared about you.
My hands are getting tired and everyone is telling me to let go.
I want to forgive you for not catching me when I fell.
But I guess that was my fault.
For teaching you I came second by always putting you first.
But I wouldn't want to change that.
Even if the good I do for you today may be forgotten tomorrow.
I'd still do good anyways.
And it may never be enough.
But I'll give it my best anyways.
I'm still broken though.
My delusion of who you were was shattered by the truth of who you really are.
And now my heart beats cold.
It's a mistake I made, but Istill won't ever let you go.
Does that make me selfish, needy, or just plain stupid?
Maybe all of them.
-_-_-_-
I love the things you hate about yourself.
I came all this way to give you all these things but you arent even looking.
You said you were afraid to lose me and then you faced your fears and left.
And now everyday I fight back the urge to go talk to you.
Telling myself that if you wanted to talk to me, you would.
~(Y/n) (L/n)
Mrs. Mark sighs. The poems were great. But...if she wereto give (Y/n) an F, she knew he would come to ask about it. It was the only window she has to comfort him.
Mrs. Mark gives him an A.
