You scroll down that rectangular screen
And see a society screaming how the world is "mean."
How life is always a sinking ship,
With sails all taterred, worn out and ripped.
Yet there you stay, so close to the shore.
With your feet barely even reaching the ocean's floor.
And what is actually there to complain?
When the sun's always up and you've never experienced rain?
You are far away from melancholy's grip.
All your saddness won't even measure up to anxiety; not the slightest bit.
You've been fooled by the world, mistaking sadness for depression.
Learning it earnestly as if some kind of lesson.
Yes.
You're hurt.
But you're not sinking.
Yes.
You're in pain.
But you're not dying.
So stop wearing sadness like some sort of fashion.
Stop trying to drown in the sea of depression.