Depression isn’t as fancy as this world thinks, it is. It is not something desirable and it is definitely not a tool for attention.
It isn’t about being unable to sleep at night. It is about being wide awake on a morning and being oblivious to everything around you, at the same time.
It is like one of those cigarettes that burn a hole through your frail soul. With each drag, you feel the smoke numbing your senses and calming you. Maybe it makes the reality bearable for a moment. It is, however, death that lives in the pocket of your jeans. You can’t do anything but succumb to it.
There are spans when you don’t know how to stop the tears that won’t come. There are times when you let the ideas of death consume your entire body. You let the feeling of everything being eased off your chest dissolve you into a pool of delusion.
You can’t escape this void, sometimes.
There are no reasons, no excuses, no mercy. It is what it is.
At times, it kills you. Other times, it drives you to the brink of hysteria, where you forget what your emotions are. You forget where you come from. You forget what awaits you. You forget who you are.
They don’t need you to tell them that everything will be alright. They don’t need you to share your experiences or rain sympathy over them. All they need you to do is, listen to them; reassure them that you’re going to stick to them at all times. They need to keep you in the back of their minds, even when they say “no”.
Every day we lose thousands of people to depression. It is not something to be proud of. The television and social media may portray it as something fancy and glamorous but, it is the end of you.
//To a better place to live in.