Jul 2014
It's 7:52pm and I lay here in darkness
The sun light seeps through my blinds and the same way I watch the sun set, is the same way I watch the sun raise. My depression deprives me of sleep.
I lay here reading love novels all day. which only deepens my depression, as I yearn for it to be me. Even the characters pain seems more exquisite than mine.
What's wrong with me? How can I be so young and feel so old? Even my inner goddess is getting rusty.
What beauty do I have left?
But I choose to mourn in silence, with this strange feeling in my chest but I don't cry. My face remains emotionless. No one will understand the mist of my struggles, besides I'm too broken, too ****** up to be fixed, or to be wanted.
By Cheyanne Ntangu
The sun light seeps through my blinds and the same way I watch the sun set, is the same way I watch the sun raise. My depression deprives me of sleep.
I lay here reading love novels all day. which only deepens my depression, as I yearn for it to be me. Even the characters pain seems more exquisite than mine.
What's wrong with me? How can I be so young and feel so old? Even my inner goddess is getting rusty.
What beauty do I have left?
But I choose to mourn in silence, with this strange feeling in my chest but I don't cry. My face remains emotionless. No one will understand the mist of my struggles, besides I'm too broken, too ****** up to be fixed, or to be wanted.
By Cheyanne Ntangu
