My depressive time line .

alone .

You know how I can tell when it's getting bad
again? The nights grow longer.
When I find myself awake at 2:09am looking at the
trees from the window of my home. Thinking of all the dreams I could be missing out on. And all the nightmares I could be avoiding.
When I retreat back into the loneliness. When the
world becomes heavier and quieter and I'm left
with the overwhelming feeling that tomorrow is
inevitable. That tomorrow will soon flood me with
noises that I'm far too young to handle, but far too
old to avoid.
Have you ever spent a moment alone? And I don't
mean that walk to your friends house with your
earbuds in. Or even the nights lying in bed, unable
to rest your mind into a better version of this
reality. I mean actually, truly alone. The only
sounds you hear are the tricks your mind is playing
on you. And eventually you can't tell if those
sounds are scary or if you're just hoping for one of
them to be real.
Have you ever found yourself so incredibly isolated
that the only way to stay sane is to lose your mind?
The only way to survive this desperate want, this
desperate need for human affection is to wrap your
arms around yourself and imagine that someone is
holding you.
Have you ever been so alone that when you ask a
question the only way to get a response is by
responding?
I grew up within four walls of loneliness. Four walls
of silence. Four walls of desperation.
Where the only music I could listen to was the
lullaby of static thoughts and muffled yelling.
Everyday I stayed within those four walls I learned
how to be alone. How to cry alone. How to smile
alone. How to laugh alone. How to ache and drown
alone. I learned how to sit in the type of silence that
could drive someone to madness.
And as I grew, like a white flower blooming in
colored water, I became the perfect shade of
isolation.
And though I have not entered that room, though
those four walls haven't surrounded me in what felt
like an ambush in years, I still find myself clinging
to the endless emptiness that they gifted me.
In times where I feel without a home. In times
where I feel I don't belong. I begin to isolate. I
begin to long for the familiar pain of being alone, as
at times, that's the closest I can be to belonging,
when there's nothing to belong to.
Hence the late nights of absolute black. The nights
where the tired world lays to rest and I sit at the
corner of my bed, thinking about the world and it's
stillness, before the day begins and everything
starts to move again. Before everything resumes it's
fast pace and I find myself tripping, just trying to
keep up.
I know I'm getting bad again. Because I'm going
back to a time where pain was my only companion
and everything that was good was all in my head.
My mind's attempt at coping I guess.
But I think the worst part about being alone is that
the only one who can hear your screams for help is
you. The only voice that lays on the edge of your ear
is the echo of your own traveling back to you. And
in that moment, when no one can hear your
exhausted, strained pleads for refuge, it's that
moment that truly breaks you. That moment where
it all comes hitting you at once, that the only
person who can pull you to the surface is the one
who doesn't know how to swim. The only one who
can warn you of the bullet coming your way is the
one pulling the trigger. The only one who can save
you from yourself is the one you need saving from.
For no one else can hear you. No one else cares to
listen.
Because in a world of noise, no one can hear your
silence.
And that's when you realize just how alone you
truly are.