No one believes I am depressed.
Depression becomes a privilege.
People are eager to make judgments and suggestions—
They never really know what I am going through.

Depression becomes a privilege.
To others I have a perfect life—
They never really know what I am going through.
I don’t know how to end this feeling.

To others I have a perfect life.
No one hears my silent struggling.
I don’t know where to end this feeling—
It’s a part of who am I.

No one hears my silent struggling—
People think I am trying to find excuses.
It’s a part of who am I.
No one believes I am depressed.