The little voices

Depression sitting at the left corner. Anorexia sitting beside depression. Binding-bulymia at the fridge. Anxiety crying at the left down corner. Self-harm whispering to me, persuading me.

I'm too shy
to tell you
how I feel,

so I'll hide behind
timid smiles and
soft hellos

I'm afraid
if I ask you
"what do you think
of me?"
your reply will be

"I don't"

"What's depression like?" he whispered.
"It's like drowning. Except you can see everyone around you breathing."