I had a pretty bad day yesterday, and I decided to write this poem. What do you think?

‘Unhappy’
I have always been familiar with depression,
It remained close in childhood and swarmed my father.
I can’t share my thoughts in fear of diagnosis,
So this poem goes by ‘anon’.
It used to be monthly, but now the slump is weekly
And when it hits me
I want to feel the last tear pool in my neck to know Ive cried
I want to feel the last throb of every punch to my thigh.
When I can I block it out but
When I get to breaking point I can’t stop my self sabotage.
I should feel the chaos of thought and overthought
I should feel how no one else should feel.
When I don’t feel this way,
I make myself feel this way.
Other people’s health matters and
Other people’s mental health matters.
Other people’s feelings matter and
Other people should go to therapy
But somehow I’m different.
I want to feel empty as if I’m not really here
But sometimes it’s simpler than that:
Its true, I don’t want to be here.
But I don’t have depression,
Because I don’t want depression
- anon