You've never seen the end of the world, did you?
It's dark. And cold. And empty.
Your words resonate and echo off the black, swallowed by the vacuum.
The air is humid, like fresh tears, not yet wiped away.
You can hear your own heart pounding in your chest, as a bird trying to escape from the night.
The hands that you clasped by your sides feel sweaty and cool.
I've never been there again. Perhaps it was too confronting, or simply too dangerous. But it never really terrified me. It felt like meeting someone I already knew. Like walking through a place I already have been once.
Maybe, one day, I'll go there again. For old time's sake. Until then, that place sticks to me. I take it with me wherever I go.
I tell people like you about it. Not because I want to warn you, but to make you see that maybe, just maybe, that place isn't that bad at all.
YOU ARE READING
Depression Be Like
RandomI think everyone here has the same thoughts. I wanted to write them down. But words will never describe what we feel every goddamn day.
