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I'm sorry.


It’s a weird feeling. 

Hating yourself.  


I try so hard to put on a show


To all of my friends

And my family 

I need to be strong.

I don't want pity 

I don't want to be a charity case

I’ve always been the person people come to for advice 

And I’ve always been there for all my friends 

And goddammit, I wish they were there for me 

I mean they are, in a sense 

But no one ever seems to truly care 

I have tons of good memories with them

I love them all

And yet, no one checks in on me at night

Why should they? 

I’ve always put on a show 

Always put on a face

And I know I would brush it off anyway

Because I have to put on a show 

I can’t let anyone know I’m a mess


It shows weakness

Weakness doesn’t get you anywhere

Being strong does. 

Being reliable does.

Being intelligent does.

But it’s hard to be those when you hate yourself.

When you despise your reflection

Every action 

Every single mistake, and there’s a lot

And how you’re never good enough for anyone 

And how you were always being told that 

And came to believe it

Because it’s true.



To be strong and ignore it. 

But it’s been nineteen years.

I don’t know how much longer I can fake it.

And to the few that only know parts

Of my life 

Always tell me

“Just be you”

“You’re so strong”


I’m not.

I’m not being me.

I’m not strong.

I’m weak for letting it get to me.

I’ve been clean for over four years

Cutting, self-harm

Well, physical at least 

But tonight was the first night I’ve been tempted again

I looked in the bathroom mirror

For what seemed like hours 

Trying to tell myself that I’m better than that

And it won’t help anything 

But I’m not too sure anymore.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I’m not good enough.

I’m sorry I’m not strong enough.

I’m sorry I’m not fast enough.

I’m sorry I’m not skilled enough. 

I’m sorry I’m not smart enough.

I should’ve died.

In the crash.

I deserve it.

How is it that I have survivor’s guilt when no one died?

Because, deep down inside, I know I don’t deserve to be alive.

And so many people are telling me it’s a sign

That I still belong here 

But I can’t.

I can’t take it.

I spend hours awake at night. 



Until nothing is left.

Because I’m nothing.

I feel like nothing.



Maybe I should just- 

No. That’s not being strong.

I just wish I could genuinely be strong.

Or have someone genuinely care about me.

I’m in love with someone who doesn’t even know. 

Or maybe they do.

I don’t hide it.

I don’t even care anymore. 

Don’t care about much at all actually

And yet, I do.

I could never kill myself, as much as I wish I could

I’m not strong enough 

And I do enjoy things 

Like sports

And school 

The problem is that I always find something that I’m bad at

There’s been a lot recently 

I push myself, and no results 

And isn’t that just the most frustrating?

I can’t. 

I’m done. 

I’m tired. 



Emotionally. Long time ago for that one, actually.

It’s been nineteen years wearing a mask.

We’ll see how much longer I’ll last. 


sad poemssadsadnessdepressionlifestrugglehelptiredweakness


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