50

When it comes, it bears no warning, no foresight, no kindness.

It hits you hard; not like a hurricane, not like a bolt of lightning, but like a rock projected straight to your heart.

It’s confusing because it messes with your thoughts.

It’s blinding and you can’t explain it.

It seems like a friend, but do not be fooled.

It is empty.

It is void.

It overwhelms all else.

It will pull out your darkest, most dearest secrets from the past so that you can relive them and hate yourself more.

It lives off your tears. Sweet as nectar, as juicy as all the lies that you have told – lies you tell to conceal it. It doesn’t like to be hidden.

It’s scary; because you don’t know how to get rid of it, because it comes when you least expect it.

It comes again and again and again. Haunting, hurting while you’re still healing.

Once in a while, you may recognize it right away, whisper its name into the air for no one in particular to hear.

Depression.

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6 thoughts on “50

  1. Nessa, I know what that’s like – when you’re lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you’ve just wandered off the trail , that you’ll find your way any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it’s time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don’t even know from which direction the sun rises anymore. What matters (or what seems to matter) is knowing that someone waits with the sun for you to return……… I wait and I love you………. ~ Bobbie

  2. I enjoyed how you said this, but my empathy doesn’t care that you are whispering “its” name. Maybe you should try my hypothetical purging practice?? hehehe (see poem entitled that on my blog) You never know, it might bring a smile.

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