It's hard. To open up to people. To accept that people will know things. And that there are those who will protect them and stand by them. Why? Because they have been alone, in the darkness for so long. They have loved those they shouldn't, they have smiled to those who didn't need it. They have died for you. And you don't know it. People who are suicide victims. Not only are they the family left in this waking world. They are the ones who passed on. Who in their last moments regretted it. They hated that look in your face as they sat their dieing. That pain in your eyes, that shock too. Depression is the worst when someone seems the happiest. It strikes. When least expected. [Anyone else think of a snake?]
YOU ARE READING
False Sense
Non-FictionMy view. Not pointing fingers. Nor any deep meaning. Just a general description. Understand. Don't change. GROW
