Depression Is My Kryptonite

Hiding

I'm sitting in my bathroom crying, though the tears are quickly drying. I can hear the pain in her voice, I wish that there wasn't so much noise. I felt good for a bit and then she was sucked into a whirl wind of pain. My siblings are driving me crazy and the thoughts I have are agonizing and are slowly becoming paralyzing. Why can't I eat or cry or even sleep? I close my eyes for a bit, but then my tears start to form. Has my hard wire begun to short circuit again? I'm not sure what needs to be done anymore. I wish you didn't have to go through this war anymore. But once it's over and done I know that you'll feel better. She keeps asking if I'm okay, I'm starting to grow faint while the voices just won't go away. I'm having those thoughts that I shouldn't be having although earlier I was glad instead of mad or sad. Will things always be this way? I sure hope not. I hope that I still have a brain left inside this hollow thing. I'd ask for a heart, but I can feel it's still there. For it aches and hurts and it tightens my chest everytime that I take a small breath. I'm hiding in here still. I don't know what the point of running is anymore. I just wish that I could close that door, that somebody would lock me in here so that I could face what I fear and so that I won't have to keep running and hiding and criticizing things that have grown to be a hypocritical opinion now. The words just aren't coming out. They form in my mouth but when I spread my lips to make them heard they fall back down to where every single word is lost again in the caverns and tunnels and hollowed out caves. Win this thing for me please. Because I know that you can, and when you come home I'll tell you all about these awful things and I'll laugh and I'll cry and most definitely sing.