If only you could see the real me.

The me that can barely lift her head in the morning,

knowing she has to deal with others.

The one that can’t be emotionally stable without medication.

The girl who struggles with even tolerating herself sometimes.

The person that you all see isn't the real me.

It's the me that puts on a fake smile

so I don't have to burden you.

The me that lies and says she’s fine

even when I'm on the verge of tears.

The me you all hear speaking poems.

The me who writes about her depression

That girl is the real me.