Lost In Pain

• by Anonymous
• 5 years ago

All I feel, day in day out, is pain and intense anger. It's towards myself. I hate myself, yet I'm reluctant to say it out loud. When I try to feel an emotion, it's never a positive one. It's always sorrow; a stage in which I can be content in crying to death, melancholy; when I'm indecisive about my emotions and when I feel nothing at all, absolutely nothing, then there's rage; a stage that hardly ever comes to light. One of the reasons why I have trouble opening up to others is that other people have their own problems. Adding my burden onto them was never and will never be my intentions.

• by Amelie, Florida USA
• 5 years ago

I totally understand you. I am always putting up masks so no one really knows how I really feel or what I'm really dealing with. And it's dragging me down, and it's like I'm being pulled down by my regrets and sorrows. But no one knows that; all they see is my smile. I'm so sick of it. I also wish that I could leave. I contemplate leaving every day, that maybe, then I'll be happy. I know exactly what you mean when you say that used to be so strong. Everyone thinks I'm so strong that I can deal with anything, but on the inside I'm breaking and I'm drowning and I just need someone to care or to see through my fake smile.

• by Emma
• 5 years ago

This made me cry. I can relate so much, maybe too much, to those words. I struggle with depression and anxiety and recently hit a large bump in my recovery that set me back a ways. Friends are important, if not extremely important, in the recovery process, as mentioned in the poem. They are the support and comfort, and one hug can go a LONG way. I don't have many of those unfortunately; all I want is a hug. Thank goodness for family! But I would like to thank you for writing this. Thank you for addressing the feelings that haunt a person. Thank you for writing what I and many others are too afraid or ashamed to.

• by Lydia
• 5 years ago

This poem speaks to me so much because I have gone through so much. And I just want somebody, but no one is there.

• by Rebaone Senosi
• 6 years ago

Depression is something that we teenagers are dealing with right now. Not having a shoulder to cry on or a therapist to talk to makes it even worse because fear starts running inside your head. Not even adults can face it on their own. People fake their smiles, but deep down inside they know they are dying. Every morning you wake up, pretending as if everything is going smooth because that’s how we live in this world. Mostly, I want people to know that if you have a shoulder to cry one, someone to share your life with and telling him/her what you are going through, you’ll soon heal.

• by Subhash Bansal
• 6 years ago

This poem expresses the mental health and situation of a lot of people in simple and convincing words. The question is why such situations develop? I feel it is because of dissatisfaction with what we have. We consider ourselves the most genius, the most studious, and the most deserving persons in the world. Our egos get so much inflated that we do not want to share and we keep crying all the times without valid reasons. If we start looking towards the people who are less fortunate, who have been denied opportunities more times than us, perhaps we may feel obliged to the supreme power for giving what we deserve, not what we desire. Medical intervention also helps to some extent in such situations. My own experience supports my opinion.
-Subhash Bansal

• by Brian
• 7 years ago

This really matches what I feel. Sometimes I just get so many thoughts going through my mind I can't even comprehend them anymore, and if I were to share all of them I would probably be thought of as insane. I get distracted partially by this sadness, and I find it hard to complete certain tasks. I just keep going using as much effort as I can muster in hope that someday I will find someone I can love, and understand, and feel comforted by while caring for them too. But these feelings feel so out of reach. They are tantalizing me with something that I may never reach. Sometimes I want to just curl up in a corner and block out everything, sit in a black room so I'm alone and can suffer in my own mind and never harm anyone in any way. But part of me doesn't want that. There's hope that I can change. When I see others suffering like this I want to help them, but I never do. I say something with the best intentions, but I feel like I slashed it. My empathy is a demon in its own.