he came like a whisper
left like a dream
nothing to prove he had ever been.
but the tears in the other boy's eyes
and his trembling lips
are the witness of his first kiss,
his first love,
and his very first heartbreak.
nothing felt good after that,
...
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Depression was a real bitch.
It's been three years. three long years of rage and resentment.
For a very long time, Taehyung had thought that maybe, just maybe he wasn't the shell of a person he used to be. He thought he was getting better & above his depressive fog but only he wasn't.
It's been three years since he lost his mom, and nothing has been the same after that.
Just take it day by day.
Your mom would want you to be happy.
Healing takes time.
That's all his online therapist had said after their countless, useless sessions.
Well, fuck time and fuck that quack job of a therapist too.
Bringing the bottle of vodka to his lips, Taehyung enjoyed the burning sensation that ran down his throat.
'No one said life was easy,' he'd said during their last phone call.
and well, Taehyung had hung up.
Yeah, no one said it'd be easy, but no one said it was complete and utter hell either. Like how about a fucking warning?
He wasn't naive. He knew bad things happen to good people all the time, but it never hits you until it happens to you.
He just wished someone would have warned him about how utterly painful this could be. He received countless sorrys, hugs and so many texts of worry, yet not a single person explained him the process of grief. The way of handling this grief.
As the time passed, it got worse and worser, but he still had a ray of hope inside him that made him want to hold on to the bad, thinking the good would come eventually. Only for it to never come.
Three years.
It's been three years and he's still bleeding out.
Why did no one tell him the true depth of this insanity?
That there would be days when he ached so deeply it took everything in him to get out of bed.
That his head would pound from the soundless tears he tried to hide in the hopes of not disturbing his roommate.
That nothing in the world would smell the same, taste the same, sound the same.
That something as simple as taking a shower would be a giant feat.
That there would be days when he was so clouded with anger that he would hurt the only people in the world that ever meant anything to him...
