The Secrets I Keep

I can't believe I'm home on a Friday, neither can my mum.

She asked why are my eyes all swollen and if I've been crying. I denied of course. I know she knows what's going on but chooses to keep quiet.

Like how she's in denial that I'm lesbian but loves her* company.
Like how she knows I smoke and constantly reminds me to cut down.
Like how she knows I club excessively and just reminds me to becareful.
Like how she was just there for me everyday at the hospital.

Sometimes I wish I had the guts to tell her everything because I know mummy will give me a tight hug and tell me everything's going to be alright.

The last time I cried so much was last October and November, the worst 2 months of my life. I'm experiencing a deja vu that tells me I'm going to end up like I did during the 2 months.

I may seem happy and alright. I looked happy and alright before I attempted suicide last October. No one expected it, least me. Sometimes, you just lose it.

It's a facade I hide behind. My life's nothing more than a masquerade.

Yes I'm depressed. I seriously need some Prozac and Valium or something along those lines.

No, I'm not okay. I really am not. I guess at the end of the day, all you have is yourself but what happens when you've lost all strength to believe in yourself?

You won't want to know.

"Secretly, I'm breaking down.
Secretly, I've been crying myself to sleep.
Secretly, suicide never seem like a better option.
The secrets I keep deep down."