(tw; hypothermia, death)
Having depression is like being caught out in a blizzard.
At first, the cold seems like nothing.
You're all bundled up in a fluffy coat,
scarf wrapped around your face,
hands slipped into gloves and tucked under your arms.
But then the snow begins to fall,
and the temperature drops,
and it's like the chill is stripping you down, layer by layer,
even though all your layers are still there.
It gets colder, and you start to feel the effects of the chill,
the fierce winter seeping into your bones,
making it seem as though you only walked outside
in a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt.
Your body begins to numb as the cold starts,
the weakest parts of you losing their feeling first.
Your nose,
your ears,
your cheeks and your face and your fingers,
all becoming completely numb,
as if they aren't there anymore.
And then your legs stiffen up,
and you have trouble walking,
even though you try so hard to keep moving,
because you know if you stop, you're doomed.
But you lose your ability to function,
the cold causing almost complete ****** paralysis,
and no matter how hard you try,
it's impossible to keep moving.
You fall to the ground,
curling into a ball in the snow,
trying to keep yourself warm,
but the cold is too much.
And as the hypothermia sets in,
your brain tricks you into thinking you're actually warm,
and you strip off the layers that were the only thing
keeping you alive.
And then it's over.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 10:16 AM UTC
It wasn’t something that just appeared, it wasn’t something that was just found, it was unlike the finding of money on the floor.
It was slow, it crept in while you slept and slowly covered everything. Like the rising of the moon, sometimes in broad daylight and never noticed until dark, until it was at the peak of it’s rise. Like the falling of an avalanche, seemingly slow and insignificant yet drastically changes everything in its path.
At first, it was a stray thought, easily shaken off at the first sign of reassurance. Occurring maybe once every few months, not at all worth questioning. Then it rises in frequency, and it needs more than a glance to disperse. It’s starting to plant doubts in your mind, but it seems weak, like the weeds in the ground, so sometimes you let it pass, let it go, because it’s weak and doesn’t need to be pulled, doesn’t need to be reassured.
But then the **** grows, spreads it’s poison to every part of your world, to your thoughts and your dreams, to your waking hours. What once was a sprout became a tree, became a forest, and suddenly, you can’t remember what you used to do before the forest arrived. Suddenly you don’t remember why you watered the large forests that surround you, don’t remember how you got there, how it got there. Just that tending the forests were your job, and you can’t leave.
Suddenly, what clear skies you used to have becomes shaded, blotched and covered. The forest has extended its branches and its invading your space, and as the tender of the forest, you do nothing to discourage the far reaching branches and the roots that set about to destroy your plains.
Suddenly its dark and moist and alone. Suddenly your surrounded with no way out, with no way to tell up from down, and there isn’t anything in the area, just you and the trees and it feels like the trees are alive and something is here.
And how can there be anything there when you’re alone?
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 1:02 PM UTC
Take care of me,
Be there for me.
Never discourage me,
Love me unconditionally.
You're supposed to be my mother.
But you treat me like I'm nothing.
I'm sick of your constant disrespect,
The loss of love in your eyes that makes me want to cry,
It's itching inside of the back of my mind.
And someday I'll say goodbye to you,
You won't want me to,
But you can't make me stay.
You're not my mom.
But until then,
I'll be walking in the rain.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 12:49 PM UTC
I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything I've said, or done, for everything I said id do but didn't, and all the stress I've put on you. I'm sorry I'm like this, forgetful, naive, short tempered. I'm sorry I never said what I really wanted to say, and what I really felt. I'm sorry for letting my emotions get the best of me and I'm sorry I said all those things to you. I'm sorry for who I am, as a person, as a daughter, as a friend. I'm sorry for being me, I'm sorry for being human, for having flaws and for having my pride. I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry. I'm sorry and I hope you'd still want me even after everything.
I know, deep inside me, that I don't deserve your forgiveness, that I don't deserve your faith, and kindness, and love. I know that I don't deserve anything good anybody would give me, because of how I am, and how I act. I know, that even if I change and repent, there will always be a part of you who would doubt, and suspect. I know that even if I spend the rest of my life trying to better myself, I would never deserve anything good, I would never get what I really need; your love. and I know even if you say I have it, that I don't, because **** like me don't have an ounce of love to give, and a bottomless pit to fill.
But still, I write this to you. I write this for myself, in an attempt to change, to repent and turn, still I write this, with no intention of ever giving it to you, with no intention of ever letting anybody's eyes aside from mine read this. I am human, filled with flaws and pride and I refuse to appear weak. I am human, and I love you. I am human, and I know I will never deserve you.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 12:43 PM UTC
Long days and longer nights
Without you by my side
There's no color, no light
No sound apart from my breathing
Alone in my room
Curtains drawn and hidden
No one notices the drops of red
Bleeding from my soul
When you said you'd think
When you said you needed space
I thought I was still nestled
In the depths of your heart
But you left me in the dust
Walked forward without looking back
Leaped into the arms of another
As I lay here waiting
Now I'm all alone
Picking broken pieces of my heart
Piecing them together with tears
Wishing for a miracle that could never be
I don't blame you
For leaving as you did
They all always do
In the end
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 11:04 PM UTC