no one
in the entire world knows what i’m feeling
no one
of all the people i know no one understands how i feel
no one
understands what anyone feels
i’m alone
people can always say it will be okay and they always will
because they don’t have anything better to say to
“i don’t know what to do”
“i’m so alone”
and the best one
“what’s the point anymore”
i will always be told that
“therapy will help”
“you’re way too young to know what depression is in the first place”
but i’ll always be alone
it feels like i’m drowning in the tears i fall asleep to every night that are invisible to every single being around me
they come from my mom's reminders that she gave up on me a long time ago
they come from my constant pain that one day i won’t be able to control
i’m alone
when my dad punches the wall for the 17th time and all i can do is weep to myself and pray that my mom didn’t hear
i’m alone
when i find out my aunt jumped out of the window i used to look out of and play in front of everyday until we left russia and i'm being way too sensitive about it since she wasn’t that close to me anyways
i’m alone
when i hear my uncle overdosed on heroin and why are you sad when you should be thankful that we got of russia or god knows what could’ve happened
i’m alone
i’m always alone
in math class when it feels like i’m being tortured to remember random formulas that i’m expected to know and called stupid when i mess up and when i’m having an anxiety attack in front of the class and my teacher who tells me to “drink some water” when nothing makes sense and when the person who is supposed to help me just tells me it’s easy and i should just look in the text book even though the one same book can’t be useful to 100 different children and when my teacher expects me to “act professional” in class when i can’t always make my depression and anxiety act professional and when my brain is telling me that i’m so over dramatic and sensitive about everything and even though i’m so annoying and a pain to everyone around me it doesn’t matter because i shouldn’t of been alive in the first place and that was a run on sentence and my handwriting is unacceptable so i screwed that up too
i’m alone
when even though everything is going great and there is no reason to be upset i’m choking on tears and my hands are shaking and my legs fail to hold me up and now i’m in a hole
a hole that no one can get me out of
a hole that i dug myself
i feel the last drop of water in my whole body leave my eye
it’s big enough to fill up
the hole
and now i’m gasping for air with the last bit of energy left in my being
i’m alone.

Lisa Lushtak is a 14-year-old writer from New York City. She was originally born in St. Petersburg, Russia, but moved when she was six. She loves to do musical theater in her free time, as well as read and write of course.

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