This is not a question its a poem< 3 imagine yourself alone in your head. you’re hanging, dangling from a silver thread. empty, alone with the monsters within. internally screaming, you just want to give in. now imagine that’s you every day, every hour. forever sinking like a wilting flower. you try to tell your dad and you try to tell your mom, but they say you’re being silly, you’ve just got to move on. because teens don’t know sorrow nor the hardships of life. they’re just kids with imaginations just looking for attention, right? you think that there’s none who knows how you feel. you’re just so alone, but the feelings- they’re real. useless, neglected, forgotten, distressed. alone, afraid, but mostly depressed. and you’re friends, they go on like nothing has changed. “they must not care,” your thoughts whisper, the lies in your brain. you can’t escape it, trapped in your own skin. you’re ugly, you’re hated, but you mask it with a grin. you hate what you feel, so instead you feel nothing. your insides are numb, your confidence crumbling. you look to other things to stop the pain. but it gives you no gain. and the people around you can’t see past your fake smile no matter how you plead that you’re broken inside, they turn the other way, they run, they hide. they say you’re just foolish, it’s all in your head. what they don’t know is inside you’re already dead.