I’m 14, a depressed teen. Wishing life was good, but a dream is just a dream. I hurt myself thinking that the bad stuff is my fault. I lose my hope thinking life will halt, for my issues, for my pain. For the damaging words engraved in my brain. I’m wrong, though I wish I was right, for all these emotions give me a fright. In my room crying all night, my desire is that I’ll be able to survive. I’m struggling through the days, trying to find someone to help me shoulder the pain. 

I talked to my mom, she asked me if I’m ok, every single trouble came out to her that day. I’m sorry momma for bringing you to my fight, my broken life needs lots and lots of light. She sat me down on the sofa, brought me a drink, she was hugging me before I could even blink. Telling me to come to her no matter the hour. Even if it was dark, or light, and if she was nice or sour. 

I agreed then went on with my life, sometimes breaking down in the middle of the night. Once I walked into her room, to ask if she could help, but she was sitting, crying to herself. I left and went back upstairs, wondering how I could show her I care, for her issues, for her pain. And me, I would just have to wait. 

Mom’s always sad, because of dad. He’s got double standards and his problems inside his head doesn’t trust anyone. Not even poor old mom. My brother, he’s just the same, picking on the 8-year-old, thinking it’s a game. My 6-year-old sister has nightmares all the time. Mamma’s always tired, telling her it's alright. 

I’m in the corner, don’t want to disturb you. Why would my life matter when I see hers? My friends, I can’t tell, guess I’ll throw a penny in a  well. Don’t know what to do, I'm always so depressed, but I use my smile like a mask. I’m hoping there’s a day I hope their problems are fixed, my feelings all mixed.

I’m sorry momma, I wish I could take your burden. I’m sorry momma, I’m another problem with your game. I’m sorry momma to bother you all night. I’ve got so much pain.

But my life can wait.