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You will never understand (a poem about anxiety)

See, you don’t know how it hurts to hide daily in your bedroom

You don’t understand the nervousness that goes through our bodies when we hear of the word ‘social’.

You won’t understand what it’s like to hide under layers of clothing everyday just as a form of protection

See, you will never know how we break into pieces at 2:28 in the morning because all these thoughts are racing through our heads

You’ll never understand why our hands shake and why our steps we walk are uncoordinated

You won’t know why we like the shadow of the being underdogs and not top men like you

You’ll never understand why we fidget with our hands while being present in a room of people and although there may not even be that many we are scared to death because anxiety isn’t something that we want to posses

See, we are crazy but more sane than you although our heart rate is faster and we can’t stay still.
We still listen more than you because we are scared of being heard and we have thoughts less understandable than yours but more understandable to people like us who have anxiety

We don’t want this life

We don’t want to live in fear and worry of ‘being good enough’

Please stop exaggerating a mental illness and start thinking about who is around you because we don’t appreciate it when we get pressured to be ‘normal’ and if you overuse the word but don’t know the meaning please don’t use it at all because it annoys us yes but will we say a thing no because that’s the truth about anxiety…we are too scared to speak up for ourselves, what we think and for others and when you take advantage of a mental illness it makes us feel more worthless

Please listen to us because you will never understand

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  • #anxiety #depression #suicidal #suicide #anxious #mental illness #insane
  • 4 hours ago

I.
Dear math teacher,
I’m sorry I didn’t do my homework.
I was busy last night fighting off the demons that made a home inside my head.

II.
Dear English teacher,
I’m sorry my essay wasn’t done.
I was preoccupied last night, trying to eat my dinner without having my third mental breakdown that day.

III.
Dear history teacher,
I’m sorry I fell asleep in class.
I was up all night trying to decide whether or not there was still a point in staying alive.

IV.
Dear school system,
I’m sorry that I’m the one filled with so many apologies.
You should be sorry that I feel the need to apologize for my mental health.
You should be sorry for making students believe that their grades should come before their lives.
You should be sorry for your lack of education and awareness of psychological diseases.
And you owe me so many apologizes for all those fucking nights when I stayed up late to finish my homework, despite the blood pouring from my wrists.

I said sorry, now where are your fucking apologies? // Hannah B.  (via f-ightingback)
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