On some days, I sleep with it, poured into the marrow of my bones. It’s no longer tricked into sleeping under my bed, it keeps climbing, till it’s one with the voices in my head.
Accept their apologies even you don’t understand.
You are loud, and you are persistent. You know how to get under my skin, and you know how to give me goosebumps on every inch of my body. But, I will never let you take full control. I will never let you gain my whole heart.
You’ll lose friends. They’ll be offended when you say you’re too tired and don’t feel like leaving your room. They’ll think that you’re lying and are making up excuses to avoid them.
You can’t leave your house, yet you can’t sit still, either. Every action of the day is an immense battle of will.
You’ve been with me for longer than I can remember. Every irrational fear growing up. Every thought that was so far from reality. You were the shadow always lurking.
I rarely make the effort to reach out to people, which probably makes a lot of people think I don’t care enough about our friendship to be bothered. Most of the time I badly want to talk to someone more, but I avoid reaching out because I worry I’m bothering them.
Depression never leaves you alone. Every morning, he awakens before you do. You wake up to him sitting on your chest, a large black creature, staring you in the face with eyes that never blink.
We’re humans, though we’re not the only ones who feel emotions, we’re the only ones that get damaged by them.
Consider this time of your life a great magnifier: it will show you what’s working, and it will show you what’s not.