

Dear Diary, My mother hates me. My very existence irritates her. My semblance to my dad haunts and humiliates her. My very being stings and
Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash Depression has been the talk of social, political and Health conferences. However, the rate of stigma and misdiagnosis of
You never loved me enough. You took my innocent love for granted. I gave you my best— Waking early, hustling for us, Even while heavily
Being a giver, a fixer I struggled when they hurt, craved their okayness, And went out of my way to make them okay Tried
Before my whole being gives up the fight Before my arms grow weary of holding you Before my ears find your voice unknown to me
Hopeful that tomorrow would be better Holding on to the belief That broken can be mended Confident that we would mature We held on longer
I love you, but your response to my confession is scary. I love you, but what happens if it’s just a feeling, An infatuation