Bruises.
Scrapes.
Cuts.
Slashes.
Splinters.
Burns.
Fractures.
Rips.
Broken bones.
Shattered hearts.
Punctured souls.
No stitches. No band-aids. No casts, no patches, no crutches, no tape.
No pills. No therapy. No worry. No help. Nothing.
No pills...nothing.
We have nothing. Not because we can't admit it to ourselves. Because we are scared of others judgments. Personally, even my parents'. Even if they could relate, which I know they could, I can't tell them. And I will never ever forgive them for not noticing that at least three of us are just the same as them while their on meds and not even giving the slightest thought to our mental states.
Who goes through this and doesn't stop to think or worry that their children might inherent it?
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The ending of this chapter was mostly just about me finding out depression runs in my family and my mom has it.......you can probably figure out the rest.
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In the Darkness
RandomShe hides her mind away as she comforts and supports everyone around her. She pushes through to dark and finds the light. He sits quietly and wonders how to win her back. She blames the rabbit. I try to find the light. I try to comfort. But how can...
