I've been trying to avoid this draft.
I didn't wanted to write this poem.
But you know what?
It's better if I write it out.
So my grandma probably thinks I'm disappointing.
I hate almost everything she likes.
I don't listen or watch anything hungarian.
I hate this country.
I will get out of this hell.

Some days I just want to kill myself.
That's all I feel.
I have mental health once.
Once.
Now I don't.
Or maybe I just overthink?
I probably do.

Oh wait!I forgot.
I forgot that I have
mental health and
that I never overthink.
I'm the perfect child.
Atleast that's how I look like.
But deep down,I am very different.
And only one person know this side of me.

If I would get a therapist,
it wouldn't help me.
I would feel bad because I
tell all my problems and the therapist has problems for sure.
Why don't I listen to their problems instead?

I don't really like eating.
I don't have breakfast only lunch and maybe...