weeks on antidepressants

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I feel more dead than alive;

Always looking for something to keep my mind occupied,

For the silence in my head numbs me.

It pets the void,

Allowing it to consume me.

The pretense of being okay

Keeps me up all night.

Dreading the exhaustion of having enough energy

To pretend of being extroverted and doing okay.

Hiding what I have turned into

And swallowing down the cost too high to pay;

A cost only I will pay when I am finally alone.

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