My Fault

My fault. My fault. It was all my fault. I told them. I screamed it at them. Their fault. Their fault. It was all their fault. They never listened. They never cared. I didn't mean to intrude but I think I'm dying. I'm not ok. They never listened. They never cared. Too many times history has repeated itself leaving me alone and helpless against their blatant lies. I interrupted their lives. My fault. My fault. I just wanted help. I knew something was wrong. Not my fault. Please just help me. Bad things happen when I don't get help. I look the same from the outside but my insides have been stripped of their sanity. I am nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Something. Something. I mean something to someone. I just haven't met them yet. 

Listen to me. I am screaming it at them. "I AM DYING." Listen to me. Death. Dying. Dead. They never listened. I am gone. I tried so hard but they always ignored my pleas for help. `They never listened. They never cared. My gravestone is two feet ahead of me and all of them are crying at my funeral but why didn't they try to stop this from happening? 

My epitaph reads 'How do you tell someone you love that you are dying when they won't listen until it's too late?' I tried to explain what depression felt like but all that came out was gibberish. I could never expect them to understand, I just wanted them to try. 

Depression is a thought, a voice in my head telling me not to go that party, not to wear that dress, not to eat that meal, not to speak up. Depression is all the dark things in this world consuming me whole and leaving me in an imperishable darkness. 

I am starting to realize that it isn't my fault. I will be ok. I will not have to worry about epitaphs for a long time and that is comforting.