By Esther Adwerts
There’s always a story behind every other thing, you know.
How a picture got to a wall,
How a scar got to your face.
And sometimes, these stories are so simple, sometimes so hard and heartbreaking.
Just like I read somewhere, it’s always so hard to not know how to breathe but dreadful not knowing why.
But what becomes the meaning of living when you’re dead?
You are dead not because you can’t breathe, but because you are scared to live, you are scared to blink, blinking causes you to close your eyes and when you close them, it’s darkness you see.
Are you scared of who you are?
Yes, you are darkness!
You are INSANE.
Come to think of it, maybe its just a chemical act up on stage, huh?
Leaking serotonin, overflow of dopamine.
Burning ulcers and pricking intestines.
You chose, but never chose well this time.
Wait! Ever chosen well?
Scared that the voices won’t just stop.
Scared that I loved them too much.
And scared that my betrayal and rejection have become my daily bread.
Just what I asked the creator for,
But you see, I’ll forgive their trespasses again.
Don’t ask me who.
They aren’t family anymore.
They aren’t friends anymore.
Eddy of emotions… A haunt affair?
Tango of demons?
Think of it.
It never gets any easy.
But we chose to become who we are
We let them all in.
Good and bad.
But you see, I’m lost.
Lost in my own scars and wounds never healing.
Don’t tell me to wait for the magic of time, tell me what to do during the wait.
I’m getting better
I’m amazing today.
At the end of it all, there’s always a thin line between life and death, and so is a thinner one between sanity and insanity, Its depression.
It’s my insanity.
An emotional wound.
You wouldn’t understand, right?
Protect your heart.
Be far away.
Calculus or Greek?
Joy said it depends on which is harder for you.
Till next time.
A dedication to all depression patients, we are in this together.
The fears and the rains,
Like drowning pebbles?
We aren’t that feeble, are we?
We always get somewhere, right?
Somewhere we feel in control.
Talk about the haggard lamp of our emotions and hurts, aaah, with a wick almost finished.
I’m done with illusions and dreaming disgusts me.
Fight on my soldiers