Is this all a joke to you?

“I am so depressed,” I laugh.

“I want to die” I chuckle.

“I can't cry anymore because I feel so numb” I whine.

“I haven't talked to my therapist in months” I joke.

“I am on the verge” I complain.

“I feel like I have no one,” I whisper.

“I don’t know who I am anymore and I am losing touch of my personality” I think.

“Why does nobody want to ever listen to me?” I cry.

But

Sweetie, you have so many friends. You make everyone laugh. Your friends adore you. Some random girl said “OMG Mili is such a nice girl, and she’s so bold and creative”, and Mili you’ve accomplished so many things.

But Mili

But Mili

But Mili

But Mili's friends never say how are you doing, Mili. They never say Mili if you ever need a shoulder you can ALWAYS come to me Mili.

They never hug me when I look tired.

But maybe it’s all Mili's fault

Maybe because my mental illness is debilitating, she wants so much attention.

Maybe she wants some attention.

Maybe she wants to be scraped off the sidewalk like a tramples piece of pink bubblegum, by someone with a kind face and a warm smile

Smile

Smile Mili you need to be happy, I hate when you’re upset

I hate when you are angry and upset all the time

Grumpy Mili

Sad Mili

Depressed Mili

Struggling Mili

On her last legs Mili

Mili is so tired and she needs help Mili.

Why is Mili so different now?

I don’t know

Mili is not even known to Mili, and I am so swallowed because I accidentally followed the bunny and fell down the rabbit hole except I am not Alice and I didn’t land in some room in some interdimensional universe I am still falling and falling and falling

And I scream so loud until my voice wears out and I can only croak a small “help”