My Mental Illnesses Don't Exist

According to my mother,
My mental illnesses don't exist.
They're not real.
But she'll never know
Just how I fucking feel.
Every day is such a struggle.
I'm waiting here to die.
My depression has taken everything from me.
I just want to know why.
Why she treats me the way she does,
Claiming we are just the same.
I think it's all bullshit.
Sometimes I want to get so drunk
That I forget my fucking name.
Anything to escape this world of hurt
Even for a little while.
As for everybody who's shit on me
They don't even deserve my fucking smile.
Not like they'd get one anyway.
Not when I lay in bed,
Inches from taking my own life away.
It sounds harsh I know,
But it's obvious I have no future.
Thought these old wounds were healing,
But it seems I've broken all the sutures.

My mental illnesses don't exist.
Figments of my imagination.
I'll never be taken seriously,
Not in any situation.