“Until when will this sadness last?” my demons asked me, to which I said, “Maybe it will last for a few more days or maybe a whole autumn or maybe when the cocoons of winter hatch into butterflies to greet the first blossoms of spring. Maybe it will last until my 25th birthday, and it would be the saddest birthday of any human being’s life, and I would blow the candles on the cake and wish for something like I hope to cease to exist even after my death because if I cry in heaven, all the angels would probably laugh at me because the life I lived was a joke. Maybe this sadness will last for so terribly long to the point that if I feel even the slightest of happiness, I’ll feel as if I don’t deserve it, for misery was all I’ve ever known. Maybe this sadness will last as long as the sun rises on the east and sets on the west, and I am a broken compass that’s wildly spinning as it tells me where the hurt is coming from which is everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Maybe this sadness will last like the life of my heart’s party and dance with every feeling that can possibly put a smile in my eyes, and in a single blink, my irises are oceans of sorrow I’d wish to drown in. Maybe this sadness will last all my life, and I still got a lot of living to do.”

I never know how to explain depression to someone. It’s so different for everyone and comes in so many different forms. Some people describe their depression as a weight that holds them down, ever-present and demanding of their time. Others describe it as a shadow that looms in the back of your mind, always taunting and jabbing and trying to tear you down. Some days, you just have thicker skin. And then sometimes, depression is described like drowning. It’s wading in an ocean of poison and barely catching your breath before you’re dragged back under. 
I am always fighting this constant battle with myself. I may smile and laugh and seem happy, but know that, somewhere, in the back of my mind I'm struggling. The happy interludes, the in-between where the weight doesn’t feel as heavy, are simply vacations from the reality that is my depression.

It makes me feel like a failure, no matter my successes. I feel worthless and like I’m a burden on everyone around me.

That life isn’t beating me, no way. I’m too stubborn for that. I have to pretend that there isn’t some rabid animal inside of me, clawing to get its grip around my throat and snuff out my life. 

People who don’t have depression don’t understand. But they can still be there for people like me. When they say something that scares you, don’t yell. Don’t get angry because you don’t comprehend how their mind works.

My mind is a scary place. I shouldn’t need to open up and spill my darkness for your compassion.  

"Things will go on as they have done up until now. They'll go from bad to worse. Things will go on, and then one day it will all be over."

- Amour 2012

@bleedingcolors

Things to Do in the Belly of a Whale

Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days. Look up for the blue sky through the spout. Make small fires with the broken hills of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals. Call old friends, and listen for echoes of sitting voices. Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review each of your life’s ten million choices. Endure moments of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you. Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart. Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope, where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all the things you did and could have done. Remember treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes pointing again and again down, down into the black depths
— Dan Albergotti

Good morning ☺️

@Restlessbraincells

A question for you.

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

I,too,wake up in the middle of the night,feeling the need to cry,I don't know but sometimes I grieve this world and I dont know how to ease its burden. I can only feel its pain and burn as it burns.💔
-Aria

"YOU WILL STOP ASKING FOR ME"💔