The losses were brutal, untimely, and sometimes lasting. The pains came in multitudes, and often. The reasons to cry seemed plentiful whilst the reasons to laugh seemed scarce.
“There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, ‘There now, hang on, you’ll get over it.’ Sadness is more or less like a head cold- with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.”
Looking back, I know that everything that happened had happened for a reason. The boy I once loved walked away so that I could see clearly once again.
“It was a cry I’ve never experienced before. It was real and raw and terrifying.”
So many Drake tears.
That’s the thing about developing alzheimer’s: one only has room for few, specific memories. They’ll try to hold onto these memories as much as possible, but in doing so, they end up forgetting that anything else ever existed.
I can name so many good things about myself.
Everything in you knows that they know you are not what they want.
There will be anxiety and you will be an infusion of nerves, susceptible to the slightest trigger. Each feeble disappointment, each missed bus or train, each misplaced item, each will be a catalyst.
Words are powerful, and they can help us heal broken hearts and broken spirits.