Super Hero

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This isn’t a poem it’s a cry for help, 

 these aren’t words they’re silent little screams.  Do you understand the ache in my chest behind this smile and the tears I don’t cry because I’d have no answer anyone would want to hear if they’d ask me why.  It’s not that I *WANT* to die… It’s just that the pain never subsides and I spend nights sitting alone staring blankly, focusing all of my energy into fighting the creature in my head they call depression -  and when I finally lay down for what I know will be an uneasy and short sleep, I lay down with the resignation that I have capitulated to this depression.  I am a prisoner who knows no escape, I’ve been given a life sentence yet I know not what crime I’ve committed.  I don’t expect people to understand anymore, because it isn’t something to be understood.  It’s a tragedy, and tragedies aren’t for comprehending, it’s a monstrosity and monstrosities aren’t for defending.  I don’t believe anymore that there is any hope of mending, the broken pieces of me that lay scattered everywhere.  I was written into this world by two people who had no business writing, I was reared and raised on constant fighting, I have battle scars that you can’t get fighting drunk in bars.  I read a lot of comics now- not because everything is neat and tidy and clean by the end, but because perseverance is an ideal these idols of mine convey, and because they believe in the same silly things I do,  like the greater good and a grand purpose.  I have a super power, you know - I call it surviving.  It’s when the depression lays me in bed and the anxiety gives me a panic attack and the hypochondria calls it a heart attack and I still get out of bed the next morning.  It’s when too poor to afford university means community college and stuck with my dad for a couple more years but I’ve got that 3.8 and I’m a student leader.  It’s when people ask me why I’m wearing nail polish or a skirt or high heels and I smile and tell them because this is the person I’m meant to be -  You see, surviving is a super power, and I’m a super hero.  I may not fly or lift stuff with my mind, but I find little reasons that tomorrow will be better than today  and I find a way to make everyday about making a better future for other people -  because if I end up a casualty on the battlefield of life - I want to know I at least tried - to save someone just like me.

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