People on social media sites
tend to glorify things that hurt.
They brag about things
that people struggle with.
Mental illness is not a label.
It is not a badge nor a privilege
or something you have to earn.
they battle voices in their heads
that they do not even recognize.
People struggle to tame
their inner demons
and keep up an image
that the world expects them to uphold.
Mental illness is not cute,
being so anxious you cannot speak is not a quirk.
Relying on people to take care of you is not romantic.
Your life is not an episode of Skins
The idea of Effy and Freddie is fictional,
no one is going to save you.
We go home and muffle our cries
while dragging razors across our wrists
chasing pills with bottles of vodka.
Our thoughts turn on us
Like a loaded gun,
and we are stuck forever
in a game of Russian roulette.
We wear long sleeves,
and try to drown out voices with headphones.
We tremble at the thought of giving up the chemicals
we have become dependent on.
People write poems about suicide
and death like it's beautiful,
but your death is not an after party.
You won't be happier, you'll be nonexistent.
You are not Amanda Todd or Olivia.
You won't be remembered forever.
The people who kept you in their memory will die out
and no tongue will ever again taste the sound of your name.
People won't sell your thoughts or your words
no one will think they should have listened.
They will think they should have spoke
And even then they will be told they couldn't have saved you.
There is nothing romantic about waking up
in a hospital bed after your fifth suicide attempt
with no one holding your hand.
No one will feel bad for you when you need stitches
because this time you cut too deep,
or when you have a seizure because you overdosed
No one will stroke your hair or cradle you
and proceed to kiss it all better.
You'll learn to survive on your own.
So this is for everyone with ADHD,
who gets told they aren't suffering
they are just hyper.
Because no one knows that your'e up all night
doing homework that took everyone else 5 minutes
or that your medication makes you feel like you have no energy.
No one knows the hours that go into tutoring because no matter how hard you tried
you couldn't pay attention during a block scheduled class.
This is for my schizophrenic best friend
who has to hide his illness from his own mom
because he is afraid to disappoint her.
Because she would not understand
that the voices don't sleep
or that you struggle to maintain friendships sometimes.
That even in your sleep your hands find their way to blades,
and you sometimes wake up to bloody sheets.
This is for the victims of bipolar disorder,
who get told they're just being bitchy,
or asked if it's their time of the month.
No one knows how often you and your best friend fight,
because you go from depressed to manic before you can finish a thought.
Or that you cut your beautiful wrists in your bathroom at night
wishing you'd had the courage to go just a little deeper.
This is for everyone struggling with Anorexia,
who get told it's just a phase
or that they aren't even fat.
I know no one sees the distorted vision of that gorgeous body
that you spit on when you look in the mirror.
People don't realize that however irrational
you believe one touch of bad food will make you instantly fat.
This is for my boyfriend,
who also struggles with borderline personality
and is scared he will never find a place in society.
I know how it feels to plaster on the emotion you think is correct,
to learn moods and behaviors to appear more normal.
I know how the voices can be overwhelming
and make you second guess your every decision.
People think these things are labels,
or they are something to wear with pride
and to advertise to the world.
This is not a fad or a trend,
we will not get over this.
It's not a matter of dropping the act.
Stop promoting it like it is.