(WARNING. DEPRESSION, SELF HARM, AND DISTRESSING THOUGHT TRIGGERS.)

(This is an open letter, a mix of what I've heard and what I've experienced myself. I was inspired by a couple of videos I saw about depression. Reading it out loud makes it a little easier in my opinion.)

Dearest,

There are things I'd rather not say. There are things we keep locked inside our withered hearts and play Devils advocate when questioning ourselves about our true, untouched feelings. Today, I have found myself wrapped in the delusion that is my thoughtless imagination and painted who you are to me.

Down to the last straw, I have asked myself if you could step outside my mind for a moment and let my blurred, gray vision of my life see in a different point of view. But you insist. Whenever I stood up to you, my head would get extremely sick from the fear of heights. Ever since I met you in that hospital bed I knew you were sitting right next to me. You never left.

A classic song once told me that love can cure any sadness in me. I had found that one person and I had waited for that moment or clarity, the heartfelt thrum that could only be experienced through the word of honest love.

But it never came. If anything you just grew stronger and you became louder. A silence of dark and elongated claws ripping my heart apart little by little as I let myself be stripped from my partner's arms straight into yours. My partner had asked me who you were and I, not once, could find the right descriptor that could shape you into their most beautiful mind, how your hands could grasp the entirety of my soul and choke me into numbness. The heartless terror that would chip me down into a limp nevermore.

There is nothing that can be said, nothing that can be explained to them. They cry, scream, beg me to try to help them understand what cannot be understood by others who have not experienced you. If I knew what you were, I would've gone to someone who might help. But with your mask of deceit, I have found myself on that day believing you were a normal feeling; feeling nothing at all.

There is an endless loop, like a bad relationship. You lie to my friends saying that I have homework to do when they ask me to go to a kickback with them, when there's nothing to be done. You cheat me out of my seat in class and fill my limbs with invisible lead that pins me to the bed. You. You cross out the faces of precious family, twist their image into nobodies who don't even give a crap about how far deep I am into your ocean of sorrow, this sparse gray that can only be explained as:

"I'm fine."

I cannot believe how easy it was to give in to your dirty generosity, the calm and smooth days that would happen to cover every day I live like a tarp over beautiful vibrant flowers expecting a flash frost that would never arrive. This utter sham that you have spun has cocooned me into a soft cloud of disfigured haze of truth.

"How easy it would be to take those pills from downstairs in the bathroom. What would that feel like?"

You would kiss me awake on the cloud of never ending sleep and press me down into the cushioning until I felt the bedsprings break. You have inclosed my sanity into a box that is kept in the farthest reaches of the world; everything I stood for was lulled into a viscous soup of my scrapbooked past and the translucent wall you built, mixed with the bitter guilt you have wispered into my forgiving ears. The soup would seep through my fingertips and feel like crisp metal scraping through every vein like the silver blade that would meet with my tarnished skin almost every day consistently.

This emptiness you provide, deeming it as more essential than the pills that faze you even the slightest, has damned my happiness into helplessness. You are shortened, quieted, broken down into a low drum within my core that would breach the surface once again without a single doubt.

The words I speak now have grasped at the thin strings of what I thought was decayed and long gone. The hope was dusty and unused, but I had polished it with shaky hands and colored with an unreadable expression of what was to come for me. I had clawed, clamored, and hoisted my way up in the battle called "Getting better" and so far I, as a person I consider to be against you, have gone through hell to get this far. There is a silver lining that I can teach myself with my friends to comfort and help me gain a foothold in the unforgiving mountain climb alike to Everest.

There's an exit your hiding from me in this hell hole of a maze of life.

And I'm going to find it.

You won't stop me. I won't give in to your selfish pity, warmth, and cold comfort.

Not anymore.

Sincerely,

The Someone You Thought You Knew

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I haven't written poetry in forever, so this is really rusty. Rereading this, it looks like brain puke, but I hope readers get something out of this anyway. I felt like it had to be said.

Maybe I could make a video out of this. Maybe make a challenge out of it?

I'm going to tag some good friends of mine who might be interested in reading something like this. Giving any sort of criticism would be helpful.

Talking-Shepard
Friskthefandom
eridanamporascience8
TheFriendFryPotato
ginger-chan
Fandom_Trash03
xX-empathetic-Xx
PineappleGalore001
trendycupcakes (happy birthday!)
dacatnextdoor14
Chilli_Writez