the last brushstroke destroys the painting [muke af]

let's talk

let's talk

If you guys read Blondie, then you saw this message before. But, this is important. My style of writing is very emotional, very heavy. This is a version of coping for me. I am literally writing away my sadness.

Depression is not sad music with smeared eyeliner running down your face. It is not a blood stained bathtub or the blade sitting across from you. It is not being rocked and forth by a lover as they kiss your head and whisper they love you. Depression is not the dread you feel when the person you love doesn't text you back.

Depression is disgusting. It is a monster. It is low and filthy and dirty and it eats you away bit by bit. Depression is the stale smell of your room and your clothes because you have no energy to actually clean—hell, you don't have enough energy to roll out of bed.

It's sitting in the bathtub as you feel that dirty type of clean, you let the water run down your body, yet no aim to wash yourself or turn it off. You're trying to wash away something that won't leave.
Depression is the slouch in your shoulders, the kind your parents tried to fix, alway reminding you to sit up straight, but that never did anything.

Depression is the hours spent lying in your bed, trying to fall asleep but never being able to. It's your eyes being so heavy that when you blink they try to stay closed. It's the circles under your eye that don't fade, even after a good nights sleep.

Depression is the sinking feeling you get when you enter school and your mind is set—why should you care about grades when you don't care about life?

It's the darkest kind of dark, it intoxicates your brain and turns your friends into enemies, your family to people you push away. You don't want them to hurt just because you're hurting.

It's the raw feeling of emptiness that won't go away. It leaves you as nothing but a walking skeleton. You don't feel anything when you can't see the light. You're sorrow, you're sad, you're depressed.

Depression is the deepest hole you could ever think of, yet you've dug yourself in. It's being unable, but also unwilling to pull yourself up. The darkness swallows you whole and you're ready to give up your beating pulse.

Depression is not rain, it's being unable to see the sun after the storm passed.

Depression is not cute.

If any of you are feeling like Luke, please talk to someone, please get help. You're too important. You deserve to get better. Please, please reach out and talk to someone. I know it's scary to talk about what's going on in your mind, but I hope you find that strength to do so. Your voice is powerful, please use it.

If you feel that you have a friend who is struggling with depression, please reach out to them. I know it may seem uncomfortable, but talking about these things is what will help to begin erase the stigma associated with depression and suicidal thoughts. The best thing you can do is use that strong voice of yours. Encourage them to speak and help them with their everlasting recovering.

Please look after your friends and yourself. Make sure you're okay and make sure your friends are okay. Everyone goes through times that are really heavy. They may not say so, but they are. Please love them and yourself. Please take care of them and yourself.

Remember that you are important, and I wish you all a beautiful life.