It lingers in your head
Waiting for the moment it feels best to attack
It sits there
Waiting
Wanting you to acknowledge it
Wanting you to think about it
And to finally free it
It's trapped behind a door
Pounding
Screaming
Leaving behind silent whispers
There it thrives
Because all doors can eventually be broken
They can be unlocked
Entered
Freed
Because no matter how strong you are
How long you leave it brewing
It's still brewing
And everything that brews
Eventually overflows.
Doesn't matter if you put a spoon over it
Or if you watch it closely
Sit there balancing it
It will tip
And once it tips
It will flow freely
Flooding your head
Your mind
Every action is controlled
Mimicked
Stopped
Frozen
Because now depression rules your head.
It's not until it ruins everything it sees
That you finally wake up
Look back to see what it's caused
The things its done
Relationships that it's trashed
Schoolwork that's tanked because you just can't overcome it long enough to get it done.
Books that you were writing come to a stop
It's not because you don't have ideas
But because you cannot bring yourself to type
Artworks that were once treasured and added onto every day
They sit there
Collecting dust.
And you?
You lay in bed for countless hours
Staring up at the ceiling
Wondering how you got this far
Wondering now what to do
Because you didn't think you'd live this long
You look in a mirror, and hate what you see
But is that just that?
You hate your looks?
No.
You look in a mirror
And you see the things you hope nobody else can see
You see every dark bag under your eyes
Caused by insomnia and the torturous dreams endured behind closed doors
You see a once carefree, strong, happy person, now shattered. Smashed to pieces and you're still falling. You're not sad are you? You're just numb. To the point of giving up.
And you
Can
Never
Truly
Escape
Depression
Because It will always come back.
————
This is the best way I can describe depression. If you hated reading this and disagree with any part of this, Well sorry to say but, This is how it is for me. Now anyways. Some days it's so much worse than this. Some days it's more emotional. More crushing. But that's how I experience this.
And if you knew why?
You'd experience it too. I'm not saying this for pity, or because I'm dwelling in my sadness and think it's all about me.
But if you disagree with anything I'm saying?
Go write your own book.