Who is the enemy?
Everything hurts.
Existing is difficult.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I'm not trying to be whiny. This is, simply put, the face of depression.
I sleep for hours, waking still tired as can be.
I eat until I gorge myself, then continue to starve myself until the next day's gorging.
My eyes water, and yet no tears fall anymore.
I can laugh, but the laughter and smiles do not touch my eyes or my heart.
Being alone in a black fortress of solitude is all that I crave.
Allowing myself to be swallowed whole into the abyss that is my mind.
Thoughts moving at the pace of sloth-like monsters that gradually enter my consciousness and force me to examine my every move. My every wrongdoing throughout my life. Every word that has ever burst forth past my lips to become something put out into the atmosphere that I can never take back...
It lingers.
Stale.
The shower burns.
Not for the reasons you may think, however. Everything burns my skin. Every touch from another living being. Every piece of clothing. I can't even scratch an itch on my skin without feeling the overwhelming urge to rip all of it off and become something... someone completely new.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
In the darkness, the demons come to take me, but they only exist within my mind.
How can it be that my mind is somehow, at the same time, my worst enemy and... me?
I feel uncomfortable. The kind of uncomfortable that I saw my mom experience while undergoing chemotherapy. Shifting from one position to another. Unable to grab that lofty dream we all chase that is known as a "good sleep".
I don't want to die.
I don't want anyone to die.
I don't want to be a burden either.
If I could just dissolve into the grass I am sitting on. Melt into the ground and deeper yet, into the cool, dampness of the dirt below. Would I then be happy? Would I be "normal"?
This hellish world is not supportive of a mind like mine.
I can't always be present.
I am not capable of always being resilient to the beasts in the darkest corners of my thoughts.
They capture the joyful moments and swallow them whole.
And I am left... here... laying on the grass that prickles my skin. Listening to the trees as they blow a cool breeze across my arms, sending shivers down my spine.
The coolness doesn't bother me. It has seeped into my bones, my very being, at this point.
Raindrops begin to drip... drop onto my skin.
But there is no feeling other than pain.
Empty pain.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Sometimes, existing is difficult.
Existing is difficult.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I'm not trying to be whiny. This is, simply put, the face of depression.
I sleep for hours, waking still tired as can be.
I eat until I gorge myself, then continue to starve myself until the next day's gorging.
My eyes water, and yet no tears fall anymore.
I can laugh, but the laughter and smiles do not touch my eyes or my heart.
Being alone in a black fortress of solitude is all that I crave.
Allowing myself to be swallowed whole into the abyss that is my mind.
Thoughts moving at the pace of sloth-like monsters that gradually enter my consciousness and force me to examine my every move. My every wrongdoing throughout my life. Every word that has ever burst forth past my lips to become something put out into the atmosphere that I can never take back...
It lingers.
Stale.
The shower burns.
Not for the reasons you may think, however. Everything burns my skin. Every touch from another living being. Every piece of clothing. I can't even scratch an itch on my skin without feeling the overwhelming urge to rip all of it off and become something... someone completely new.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
In the darkness, the demons come to take me, but they only exist within my mind.
How can it be that my mind is somehow, at the same time, my worst enemy and... me?
I feel uncomfortable. The kind of uncomfortable that I saw my mom experience while undergoing chemotherapy. Shifting from one position to another. Unable to grab that lofty dream we all chase that is known as a "good sleep".
I don't want to die.
I don't want anyone to die.
I don't want to be a burden either.
If I could just dissolve into the grass I am sitting on. Melt into the ground and deeper yet, into the cool, dampness of the dirt below. Would I then be happy? Would I be "normal"?
This hellish world is not supportive of a mind like mine.
I can't always be present.
I am not capable of always being resilient to the beasts in the darkest corners of my thoughts.
They capture the joyful moments and swallow them whole.
And I am left... here... laying on the grass that prickles my skin. Listening to the trees as they blow a cool breeze across my arms, sending shivers down my spine.
The coolness doesn't bother me. It has seeped into my bones, my very being, at this point.
Raindrops begin to drip... drop onto my skin.
But there is no feeling other than pain.
Empty pain.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Sometimes, existing is difficult.
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