United States of America

they/them * 17 * latinx
future linguistic anthropologist
* asmackofeverything.weebly.com *
* wlfpoetry.blogspot.com *

Message to Readers

This feels like the millionth version of this poem, but it means a lot to me.

(trust me, you don't want to)

June 4, 2019

Trigger Warning: mental illness

Mental illness isn’t

pretty faces, the only blemish
some bags from lack of sleep

        Mental illness is

        ragged faces from nightmares that 
        wake you up in a cold sweat

thin frames, from shyly saying no to some sweets

        organs squeezed between skin and bones, 
        eating has become something you can’t do without 
        throwing it all up afterward

too big sweatshirts and an allergy to school

        not being able to get out of bed,
        unsure you’ll make it through the day

  the quiet kid at school, always reading
they should try harder if they ever want someone to talk to them

       lungs no longer breathing, 
       anxiety tears broken ribs to pieces

headphones, dazing off in class
maybe lazy, maybe not

       questioning reality
       all grounding points gone,
       the butterflies carried it away

neat freaks and a dresser with all matching socks
they wash their hands all the time

       Repetition. Repetition. Repetition.
       not being able to leave the house before it’s done right

streaked mascara, sadness is the only emotion in sight

       high: driving with the sunroof open 
       laughing loud, you can do anything-
       you don’t sleep for three days

going from happy to depressed pretty fast,
whatever that means

        low: bang your head against the wall, 
        trying to shake off the demons,
        who looked like angels a second ago

holding grudges too long

       being shoved in the hallway and beat behind the cafeteria
       your mom’s wail, you’re passed out from the OD
       old scars and deep memories of the pain 
       your mind against itself

Mental illness is not something you can try on.
(trust me, you don’t want to)

There are people who survive it,
there are people who don’t.

It looks different on everyone
lies blur the lines, you might get confused.

One thing is clear:
our pain is real,
so, you don’t get to
try it on like a costume.

Mental illness is real. Not some
label to be worn like a trend,
only to be thrown away when things get serious.
If you relate to any of this: I'm sorry. But, I know for a fact that you are going to make it because you are already strong af for getting this far. You've got this. Keep fighting.

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