I miss the way I used to be. I miss the way I used to feel. I miss the girl who died and left me in her place.

I am more dead than alive. I cry more than I sleep. I cut more than I eat. Is there something wrong with me?

It's hard to live life when you have friends that don't understand. It's even harder when have no friends at all.

The shadows in the corner of a room. The shadows by a faded light. These shadows are depression. The type that takes you and swallows you whole.

Nightmares haunt me. Each one revealing a little more of your evil face.

There's a part of me that knows I was put on this Earth for something. But there's a bigger part of me that realizes life has beaten me too much for me to care anymore.

You see the cuts on my arms and think, "Oh my Gravy. What is wrong with her?" I look down at them and think of the battle deep within me that day.

What do you do when you can't take it anymore? Fake it.

Depression is a disease. There's got to be a cure...right?

Only true friends can see the pain burning inside you.