HannaTheHippy
~ ハンナ ~
Hello! I'm Hanna. I've sorta, just thought of these and needed to write them down. I'm not very good at poetry, and I usually do freestyle, but I always found it fun regardless!
1. I feel it, rarely. The thing that everyone on this Earth deserves, but sometimes never get. The something that fills a person, but is stored away from many, under lock and key.
This thing, this feeling, this relief of knowledge is tricky and fickle.
One moment there, the next moment gone.
As I grew older, the feeling dwindled. Was I dying? Mentally, yes.
Would I be alive again? Could I be reborn into a different mental state? Could I trick myself into feeling this reaction once more? Was this a test of my fate? Why? Who could wish this upon someone like me?
It doesn't feel right. I'm not depressed, I can't be.
I have the 'perfect' life. I have a boyfriend, a family. I live in a first-world country..
Yet, when I went to the doctors, I found the worst. Something I feared. My stomach was in knots, my heart was pounding. I couldn't think, and tears rolled over my eyes, streaming down my cheeks.
I know now. This feeling I've been deprived from is noticed as 'happiness'.
I can't feel feelings. Life seems like a movie to me, as if I'm watching everything pass by -- not like I'm living it. I'm in 3rd person, looking through a camera strapped where my eyes go. Everything passes in a haze.
"You're living the dream! Not being able to feel, means you can't get hurt!" They mocked.
"You're practically a robot." They teased.
Nobody asked how I felt. Nobody questioned how it feels. Nobody understands, nobody wants to understand. They disregard me as 'okay' and leave me alone, because they don't feel like they can help, or they don't wanna fall into the mess I'm in.
I need you. I need your help.
I need him. I need his love.
I need us. I need to know we're okay.
Don't leave me. I'm ill.
Rant portion (It's sorta annoying, I'm sorry):
Let me tell you something, something I truly believe in. Something I made myself forget, because I have such a 'good' life. Something I need everyone to know:
No amount of stuff or love, when you're suffering from depression, matters. It shouldn't be a health contest. You could be the richest, most loved person, but still be severely depressed and suicidal. Don't tell anyone because 'they have a good life', they can't be depressed. Everyone's different, everyone suffers from pain differently. Don't tell anyone they're okay when you know they aren't. Don't tell people to get over themselves -- don't tell people they're too young.
With love, Hanna.
1. I feel it, rarely. The thing that everyone on this Earth deserves, but sometimes never get. The something that fills a person, but is stored away from many, under lock and key.
This thing, this feeling, this relief of knowledge is tricky and fickle.
One moment there, the next moment gone.
As I grew older, the feeling dwindled. Was I dying? Mentally, yes.
Would I be alive again? Could I be reborn into a different mental state? Could I trick myself into feeling this reaction once more? Was this a test of my fate? Why? Who could wish this upon someone like me?
It doesn't feel right. I'm not depressed, I can't be.
I have the 'perfect' life. I have a boyfriend, a family. I live in a first-world country..
Yet, when I went to the doctors, I found the worst. Something I feared. My stomach was in knots, my heart was pounding. I couldn't think, and tears rolled over my eyes, streaming down my cheeks.
I know now. This feeling I've been deprived from is noticed as 'happiness'.
I can't feel feelings. Life seems like a movie to me, as if I'm watching everything pass by -- not like I'm living it. I'm in 3rd person, looking through a camera strapped where my eyes go. Everything passes in a haze.
"You're living the dream! Not being able to feel, means you can't get hurt!" They mocked.
"You're practically a robot." They teased.
Nobody asked how I felt. Nobody questioned how it feels. Nobody understands, nobody wants to understand. They disregard me as 'okay' and leave me alone, because they don't feel like they can help, or they don't wanna fall into the mess I'm in.
I need you. I need your help.
I need him. I need his love.
I need us. I need to know we're okay.
Don't leave me. I'm ill.
Rant portion (It's sorta annoying, I'm sorry):
Let me tell you something, something I truly believe in. Something I made myself forget, because I have such a 'good' life. Something I need everyone to know:
No amount of stuff or love, when you're suffering from depression, matters. It shouldn't be a health contest. You could be the richest, most loved person, but still be severely depressed and suicidal. Don't tell anyone because 'they have a good life', they can't be depressed. Everyone's different, everyone suffers from pain differently. Don't tell anyone they're okay when you know they aren't. Don't tell people to get over themselves -- don't tell people they're too young.
With love, Hanna.
