Lurking in the shadows it hides in the deep dark recesses of her mind. Every step, move, thought she makes is laced with it. It’s like a drug to her. Self-doubt skips in her footsteps making her look behind at every turn. She slouches hoping to hide behind the pity filled eyes of the others she so desperately wants to morph into. The mirror is her enemy reflecting what she most loathes: herself.

Laughter tugs at her ears making her dwell deeper into her shell. Every high note, every small giggle she feels burning her skin. Another white line joins the cracks of her exterior. She is chained as if to a whipping post every “crack” making her fall deeper. Her breaking point was breached weeks ago and now she is waiting — that calm cool moment before the storm. She feels it coming yet can’t seem to find anyone to throw her a raft. She has no life jacket and is slowly sinking below the waves of herself, they crash over her head , break on top of her leading her to her destruction. Even as she is going under, she blames herself; that one final piece onto her already broken shoulders causing the snap that she has been waiting for. It’s not as painful as she expected more of a numbing of herself.

All the dreams, plans, emotions, memories that made her who she was are gone. All that matters now are the white robed nurses that chain her down and the smell of the antiseptic which permeates the very air she breathes, clogging her nose. She no longer hears the voices but the steady drip of the IV locked in her arm and the swift beeping of the heart monitor as her chest rises and falls. “It’s never going to get better now” dances with the word that brought her here to begin with: “depression.” Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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