When do you draw the line between the normal sadness of the human experience and the gripping sadness of depression? It’s felt like I’ve straddled this line for many years.
I wish I could make sense of your mind
the way I’ve always been able to make sense of my own.
Thoughts that slide so easily into poetry, into neat lines
and verses and words with a rhythm, calculated and perfect.
Maybe you don’t see it right now. I know it definitely doesn’t feel like it but you are. There is someone who loves you and wants you to be OK.
I have no idea what drags me back here or why, all I know is I’m not fucking staying.
“The past can hurt, but the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it” – The Lion King
If I said that God was unfair, that He didn’t care, I’d be lying. Because He sent you to me when He knew you were exactly what I needed to keep my head above the water.
Do you know what happens when you sleep with someone for reasons other than wanting to actually fuck them?
I don’t ever mean to pull away. It’s never malicious. It isn’t because I hate someone, or that I’ve decided my life is better without them. It’s because my f*cking brain says, “You’re done for a while. Go hibernate, ya weirdo.”
Depression is a disease that already makes you feel small; be aware. Be kind.
You are the cause for my insecurities. For my dysmorphic body image. You are the reason why I would sit in the bathroom as a child and pinch all my fat after you told me I was a fat ugly duckling.