I'm tired of being depressed and everyone thinking I'm just funny...

I'm not funny, I'm depressed. There is a difference, can you tell I cry every night? My sick jokes are nothing but a way for me to rid myself of the harm I wish to do to me, I am not funny. Please stop laughing at me, I am no comedy. I am no drama, I am real life and real sick. I can't do this alone no matter how hard I try. My family can't hear the screams behind my flesh, they're trapped in my lungs, I can't even hear them myself. I've silenced my sorrow because I didn't want to be "crazy," but fuck that I'm tired! Playing stable is worse than gym class and math, at least in one I can get a breath of fresh air every now and then. I've been an immigrant to my smile, a native to my wet pillow, tissue box and dark room. It's killing me to write this! I never wanted you guys to know how bad I am hurt, but this is shit I can't hold in. My emotions are worse than word vomit, so much so it's muted my voice. I haven't written a poem in months, only letters of depression asking her to flee from my being, I can no longer make play dates with her. I don't have enough time for me, to love me, to be me. I haven't been real in years because I've been hiding the truth behind my eyelids, these eyes aren't this big for nothing. I block oceans of tears whenever I blink because if I look life in the face for too long I may punch her. I try not to be violent and have ended up with the desire to be the Shakespeare of razor blades and wrists, but everyone would see that. My secrete would be out and no one will love me for the truth in my spirit they'll pity me into their sentences and add me on as a "P.S" in their prayers. I'm convinced no one really meant it when they said they loved me because they haven't see me in years, I've changed, gone bad on the inside, didn't allow any light in. She said my spirit was light but, failed to see my hips I am part Grendel, all beast. I am not funny, please stop laughing at me. I'm crying for help!