You get up just to plaster on a fake smile and laugh constantly,

Because that's what people who have their shit together do.

Only selfish, ungrateful and weak people are depressed,

But you're totally fine, right? That's definitely not you.

I mean,

Everyone feels like this sometimes, so you're totally okay.

It's not like you hate yourself and want to end your life.

Well.. maybe, but that's just normal, everyday teenage angst,

And you'll just grow out of it in a few years' time.

Even though,

You have an internal monologue that tells you how awful you are,

You hide it so well that, sometimes, even you forget you're afraid.

Until that day's share of a million awful thoughts try to kill you

And you are reminded that, no, you are definitely not fucking okay.

Much less,

Are you going to let someone else learn about your demons

That invade your thoughts every second of every hour.

The ones that make you cower beind your mask of happiness

That you use to slam your deep, dark thoughts into a junk drawer.

But still,

Despite secretly knowing that you desperately need someone to help,

You still fake it, because your mind screams that you're so much better

Than what you were before. But while you're cracking and breaking down,

All that matters is whether or not everyone thinks you're well put-together.