A Depression Poem – By J.E. Skye

That darkness welcomes my soul, forever waiting for my embrace, that dark friend forever lying in wait. (My current feeling. So enjoy this awesome blog)

The Bipolar Writer Mental Health Blog

I wanted to preface this poem with a “trigger warning,” this is a poem I wrote about suicide and depression recently, at this time I am NOT depressed or suicidal. But, this poem could trigger those feelings, so please read only if you are in a safe place. This free-verse poem was written during a poetry class in my last semester of my bachelor’s degree. It was my raw feelings when I was suicidal turned into a poem, please enjoy. I will link the other poem I posted recently.

Updated Version of my Poem: 12:15 am

My Darkest Depression

It has been a long while. I am lost in my darkest contemplations. Sinking, unable to breathe. “I’m Depressed,” there I admit it. Teetering, on the edges of the blackest of thoughts— suicide. The darkness serves as my safe and unsafe place. “I am always here for you,” says the darkness—…

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There are times when you need the space

Then there a times that you want to erase

Erase your grief and hold onto the past

But all you can do is look up at the stars and beg not to be sad

To be sad is a natural thing when it comes to grief

But that grief wears you down more than your beliefs

Is that belief is something you can endore?

Is that something you even want to explore?

Since that time of space has it helped you cope?

How can you know when you struggle with hope

Hope is something we all have in our lives

That is something we can’t deny

How do I end this dark troubling, honest poem?

I don’t have an answer since I’m trying to cope in my personal dome




For a few months you feel that all is right in your world, and that the universe has finally left you alone.

Grief is like your walls are made of straw and your armor is made of cloth. You feel weak. You feel like the floor you stand on will suck you through into an abyss of nothingness that runs deep. There is no end to the grief, just the less intensity after all those years that you hope for peace. And those precious memories at that time made that dark cloud arrive, those memories you hold dear to your heart until it’s your time.

You will remember every word that was said, and every occasion will stick in your head. Those chains that bound you throughout your life, gets stronger when that dark cloud arrives,

No one can go through life without grief, but for those whose walls are made of straw cannot bare another loss, no matter what they achieve. You’re not the only one with that miserable black cloud, you will try to explain but no one can understand the deep cuts that always seem to rebound. That need to feel numb, that need to cope, are like a steel tornado that gives no hope.

Grief is the thing we all want to erode.


Fucking grief will make you explode.


Dark Cloud

A poem that describes my dark partner

I awake each day feeling numb. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, I feel glum.
Standing in front of the mirror I saw a darkness above my head. A dark cloud raining black droplets that permeates me with dread.

I touch the dark cloud with a timid finger, only to shiver with fright and then to wither. The dark cloud sucked my happiness, joy, dream, and security with such force I stumbled and rethought my life’s course.

The dark cloud still follows sending black drops of misery upon my head, I run to escape but my legs feel wobbly from dread.

Dropping to my knees I’ve given up, the dark cloud showers me even more, I look up and say, “what for!” A voice emerges from the depth of the cloud, “you shall always be with me, because we are destined to be one.”

Closing my eyes, I begin to cry, slumped over I’ve done all that I can try. the end is close enough to escape this dark cloud, yet I must endure this life and scream out loud, my pain and suffering as my battle cry. But for now, I need to try, I need to escape, I need to survive, because this is my shitty life.


Fuck 2018

I’m not going to vomit everything that has happened so far this year. But what I can say is that everything that has happened is shit. Is there anything I can say that has some uplifting or a glimmer of hope? NO. Let me speed up the process of how shitty this year is so far.

  1. My family and friends no longer want to deal with my grief. Because dealing with such a negative thing drains the fucking energy out of their lives. My crying and venting is overwhelming and they no longer want to deal with it. It has become an obligation to save me, to be there for me when I am down in the dirt. This year they all deserted me.

Now that I have no friends or family to turn to, I now turn to strangers for some sort of comfort, for some sort of distraction from this shitty reality I call life. I’ve become a burden to everyone around me. A pain in the fucking ass. So then I wonder, why the fuck am I even here?

I have no goals or passion for anything this year. I am still in the same fucking drab ass bullshit. This year I’m more impulsive than normal, I’m seeking some sort of comfort, a fucking cuddle buddy with anyone. How fucking pathetic is that?

In the meantime with all of this shit, I’m getting fucking old. Living in the same shitty place, still fucking stuck grieving and still fucking lonely and single.

“You have your kids”, Really?! My fucking kids are kids. I’m an adult, I need an adult to connect with, not my fucking kids.

2018 so far has revealed to me that I am struggling with this fucking DPB. That I am alone with this fucking bullshit. That no one fucking understands me or fucking cares.

I’m going to put an ad out that I need a cuddle buddy. Fuck it.

2018-03-21 (2)



About Me

Lost Child Part 2

Like I said before in Part 1 of this story, my goal was to find my mother. The first time I ever made contact with my mother was when I was 15. She called the house wanting to speak to me. So, I was allowed to talk to her. She cried, and I didn’t. I was in so much shock and disbelief that I finally found her (she found me). I listened to her (she spoke only in Spanish). She told me that she talked to my father and he will buy me a plane ticket outside of the U.S. to finally meet her.

I was excited but I also was scared. What would I say to her? Should I hug her? Questions were circling through my mind that I felt sick. When mother hung the phone up. I felt lost and alone again. My father approached me, he looked upset and angry. He said, “You will not go see your mother, I will not buy you a ticket.”

My heart sank. I finally found my mother and he took her away from me again? 

I am now 28 years old. I no longer live with my father, I have my own family. This time my mother contacted me through Facebook. I got her number and called her. We talked every day, I was saving my money so I could go meet her. My dream was coming true.

But my dream never came true. 6 months or 8 months later I received a phone call from my father. He is crying. He said that my mother is dead.


That is the only thing I remember him saying. That word crushed my heart, my dreams, my life. All these years of her trying to find me, all these years of me wanting to meet her, and she was just gone.

I will always remember what she first said to me when she contacted me on facebook. “It’s a miracle that I finally found you. God has brought us together.”

To end this dark and sad story:

I blame my father, and I will never forgive him. Ever.

About Me

Lost Child Part 1

I was taken away from my mother at the age of one. She has never seen me since then.

How did this happen?

My father promised my mother the world. We lived in a home outside of the U.S., she was madly in love with him,  and he pretended to be in love with her. He told my mother, “I will go to the U.S. and get us a place, then I will buy you a plane ticket.” She was gullible.

I came to the U.S. without my mother. He never sent her a ticket to come here. He avoided all her calls and all her mail. Every time she found out where we lived or our new number we would move and change our number over and over again.

My father kidnapped me.

I grew up with a goal to find my mother, to even know her name. I asked my father when I was 8, “What is my mother’s name?” He replied with a slap across my face and told me to never mention her. So I didn’t.

I grew up yearning to find her, to be reunited with her, because without her I felt like a lost child. This was my goal, this was my dream.

What happened next? tomorrow I will post part 2 of this story.



That New Cut

Those that have experience self-harm understand how it feels to cut that new cut in a long while. It is very satisfying, it is like chocolate melting in your mouth. That sensation does not compare to anything you can think of at the moment. When you see the blood, when you feel it being released from your body, you feel somewhat at peace. You feel calm, you may even cut again when you do not feel satisfied.

Cutting, self-harm, is an addiction, it’s a coping mechanism. It is difficult to break from. It’s something that is familiar, that soothes oneself. It does not compare to anything else that we have experienced through life.


I cut. I relapsed. It’s been a few days since I cut myself. What made me cut? What pushed me to that point to where I needed to calm myself? Life did. The struggle of dealing with so many emotions, with so many different choices, I felt overwhelmed, I felt cornered. I felt alone. I see a pattern among those that suffer from depression. They always feel alone. I can be in a room with all my family and friends, and feel absolutely alone. I’ll even put on a fake smile, I’ll even say, ” Yeah, I’m doing much better.”

Anyways, I cut myself. Will I tell anyone? No. I will continue to wear long sleeve shirts and hoodies to hide my issues. To hide what is tarnishing my body. No one will ever know how deeply my self-harm is. How it consumes my life.

Why do I hide it? Because it is easy to do. Because all I need is a long sleeved shirt and some dumb excuse and boom! My issue is gone for an hour or two until I am alone and I look at my arm and feel ashamed of myself. Until the next time, I decide, no! I just do it, I just cut.

Most people think that cutting is a form of attention. No, it is not! We are not looking for attention, nor are we hoping for pity. We are crying out in our own way that we can’t cope, that cutting just makes us feel somewhat normal. The only people that can understand those that cut are cutters or self-harmers themselves. It’s like an unspoken group. We just understand each other without having to tell our fucked up stories.

Hi, my name is_____ and I am a cutter. Can you relate to me?


Fight or Flight

Everyone has heard this saying before. Then again it’s not just a saying, it’s what our bodies do when we are faced with something really serious. Something that can harm us, something that may make us scared.


For me, I felt this way when I was walking on the side of a busy road on my way to the store. I’ve walked this road many times before, I know all the houses, and the hidden small stream of water that’s usually littered with trash. That day it was sunny, warm, and a little breezy. It was beautiful. So, beautiful I thought that it was a perfect day to die.

I looked behind me and saw a large truck, one step to the left I thought. Just one full step and I would be in the path of that moving large truck. I would time it perfectly so the driver had no chance to stop. It was easy I thought.

I was reacting in Flight.

What made me scared or anxious to want to end my life at that perfect moment? I was done fighting. I’ve been fighting all my life. I remember that I began this fight when I just 8 years old. Now I am in my 30’s and I am still fighting. On that busy road, on that perfect sunny day, I thought that I was done fighting. I needed to be done.

Do I still feel this way? Yes.

What are my current thoughts? To climb onto my roof and jump to my death. I probably wouldn’t die though, but I would be seriously hurt. I will most likely keep having these thoughts, there may come a day where I may actually follow through with my thoughts. But right now I am thinking about having a cup of coffee.


About Me

A little bit about me

Who am I? 

I often wonder that on a daily basis. I’ve been told that I am a funny person and fun to be around. Deep down inside I am sad and unhappy. Usually people who feel so dark inside are often there to help others, uplift those, smile a lot, and just act like everything is okay. So most people do not know the true me, and if they don’t do I?

Why am I being public with my issue?

Have you ever felt that your friends or family don’t truly understand you? That when you try to explain how you feel, you think you sound dumb? Or that you just can’t put into words what you are going through or feeling? Yeah, that’s me. I find it easier to write what I am going through,  and what I am feeling.

How extreme is my Depression and Anxiety?

I have a lot of low days. Those days are so dark and lonely that I isolate myself from the world. I become distant with family members and with the world in general. My thoughts are extreme to where I honestly think that I would be better off dead. Currently, I still feel this way. When I can’t handle my depression and am unable to deal with my emotions, I turn to cutting. This is how I cope. I have done this since I was 16. This is a habit that is difficult to change for many people who are cutters. People wo cut are not trying to seek attention, or are not trying to kill themselves. Cutting makes people feel better, helps divert their emotions to something else. This is a way to cope, which is unhealthy. But again, difficult to stop.

What is Borderline Personality Disorder?

This is a serious mental illness that is hard to diagnose. When I was told I had this disorder I thought maybe I really was crazy. But to those who do not know this condition here is a short explanation: Symptoms-intense anger or intense emotions, impulsive behaviors that can be extreme to dangerous, low-self esteem…To learn more: Borderline Personality Disorder

Have I ever attempted suicide?

Yes. Will I ever attempt to do this again? Maybe. There is nothing more I can say to answer this question. Like I said before, I have my days and some are worse.

What do I hope to achieve?

I hope that readers like you will understand what goes on in the mind of someone who is mentally ill. That if you are suffering from the same diagnosis as me, that you will not feel so alone. That when I do decide to end my life, my words, my stories will live on and that I can bring awareness to many.

*I do not encourage suicide, nor do I encourage cutting. This blog is to explain what goes on in the mind of someone who is sick. So that you can better understand those you care about, and look for signs that they may need help.*

**I am not an expert writer or am I trying to be. Ignore any grammatical errors.**