What if my excuse of depression doesn't count one day?

 What if my excuse of depression doesn't count one day? 
My perceived sadness and exhaustion doesn't get a say, 
I get called out for my laziness and that I am actually okay. 

What if all this is just a big ass show, 

and in reality i am just slow. 

I guess you reap what you sow. 

What if I really just hurt myself for attention, 

what if all my scars are just another extension, 

of my self love and my narcissm dimension? 

What if my attempt to end this fuckin life, 

was just another way to experience the knife, 

and the thrill of being alive. 

What if I am really just useless.