My house was made of sticks, it came crashing down, you crushed it with your bare hands.
I am a mental health advocate. I live it, I breath it and I will work endlessly to spread word about the cause.
It is a bit like that wayward friend, the one always up to no good; she gets you into all kinds of trouble but don’t worry because it’s a rush.
I got in, can you believe it.
I was late, maybe an hour or twelve, after the first month you stop counting, stop noticing, like so many things now time is just one of them. Sometimes it’s in the small things, a glass dropping water into a disappearing puddle, or a splash of bright yellow upon white walls, one second there and the next gone, irrelevant imaginary mirages.
Envelops your mind,
everything clouds over.
Sit here, incommunicable,
arms hugging nothing, remnants of something, flicker on a screen.
When you have depression, you feel more alone than you ever have before. You ask all the questions in a conversation, so no one has the chance to ask how you are.