Jasmine Leskela

In My Mind

I can't express the distress of what it's like to be depressed but yet it's vital to try to wake up every day and not complain or be vain about the array of pain that these draining chains bring. It's time to get up for school, but oh, how cruel, the night didn't let me rest and now my chest aches with shard-like flakes of self hate. How can I catch the bus when there's rust forming between my formations of trust that control my body's will to throw up the pills I swallowed with my heart hollow as I wallowed in my loudest shrills of "it's your mind and body that need to be killed." My mind sings a sad tune from which the fumes of loons disperse into my hot air balloons called lungs, but I suppose it's best I hold my tongue, and not let it float away with the good memories I won't recall today. I didn't have time to put on make up, but it'll make up for the time I lost this morning, mourning the loss of the girl that died in my bed, by my side last night. She couldn't even put up a fight, it was knife or flight. Strife, that's right. If only I could shed some light on how height-ened and fright-end my emo-tions become during the day when you all say "everything will be okay," but all I see is a sea of people telling me to flee. These hallways are horror holidays stalking my every motion until the commotion is stopped by a screeching bell that might as well be a voice from hell; but why the hell are these crowds of intrusions cruising from my bow to the stern looking delusions of authoritative units that try to pry when they don't realize they have bigger fish to fry. Those red lines are my cries that I never cried from either eye, for the only tears I shed last night was the blood shed that, to my delight, made my brain and body think alike. I didn't pull the trigger next to my head just yet, but I feel very triggered by this cold bed whispering worthlessness into my already overwhelming dread that starts to become things I've said to myself when my shelf of thoughts overflows with the woes of the show I couldn't perfectly perform the previous day thanks to the reform of tedious grey faces telling me, I need to change... this.