A/N This work is purely fiction. Based on my opinions and not necessarily accurate
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I don't intend for anyone to really care, I just wish to speak out my mind. An endless conversation with myself with no expectation for a reply.
I in no way will say I am an expert in such a subject nor have I ever been diagnosed of it really. Yet I only wonder if I actually suffer from it. Depression, as many could say is a medical illness. I sometimes look through articles, blogs, or videos wondering to myself, is this actually correct? Does this mean I am 'depressed'?
I felt like my surroundings were crumbling. Felt like nobody understood me. I opted to give up and told myself it was nothing. To plant a smile on my face, that way no one would worry about me. My days would be just the same. Nobody suspected anything.
Yet it still ached, like a force pulling you down and a non-understandable series of wishpers spoke inside my mind. I didn't comprehend it myself, I just felt so... Tired. Tired of what was coming next, of what was going through my mind I didn't understand it at all. I just wanted for everything to stop, I wished for silence.
I just felt so beaten up, exhausted even. When I arrived at my home I plunged myself onto my bed. And they just poured down from my eyes. Tears, constantly running down my cheek. I didn't understand why I was crying, but I just kept sobbing. I could taste the salt. It wouldn't stop, my chest ached and my tears kept coming. It became hard to breathe and my crying became louder. I decided I would just cry it out, took my pillow and just screamed, so loud I scared myself.
By the time I realized it I had fallen asleep and when I woke up I felt so much better. I felt at ease, safe. I don't know why I acted in such a way, but letting everything out was a relief to me.
YOU ARE READING
Slice Of Life
Ngẫu nhiênA series of monologues which main goal is to catch your attention and maybe even relate to or think about the subject.
