My Silenced Cries

Delicate

Delicately.

She lays there. Perfectly placed.

Like a rose.

She's flawless, the definition of beauty.

Skin like porcelain.

Eyes like cold fiery ice.

Perfect.

Delicate.

Challenged.

Broken.

Like a rose.

Attacked by a wind storm.

Like a glass of water.

Dropped from the counter.

Shattered.

Ripped apart.

Broken.

Flawful.

Guilty.

Depression, the dark blanket that seems so warm and soft in the beginning but begins eating at you.

Depression, it takes everything from you.

It ruins you.

Breaks your heart and takes your eyes, making it impossible to see your own inner beauty.

Right when the fight is over and you finally get to stand back up it rips you back down so much harder and then spits on you asking "Why in the world would you even bother? It's life. And you my dearest friend, can't. Be. Happy."

Depression is a lot like love...

But the difference is, love pulls you out of depression. Then shoves you right back in it.

Love makes you do some pretty crazy things.

Good and bad.

But depression kills.

So here I am. Hanging, oh so delicately.

Waiting.

For that rock that sends be over the edge.

Anticipating the future and what it entails.

Deadly afraid of being shot down and stepped on.

Terrified of breaking. Being in that state where getting up is Impossible. Where faking that smile can't be done. So far gone that music is my only friend and the escape that is Ivori doesn't work anymore.

Worried about being alone. Because this last little while has proven to be, I can't be alone for very long without breaking.

Waiting. To push you over the edge. For you to give up on me and say its not worth it.

God I hate worrying...

It's eating me.

Why... Why can't everything just be wonderful again...?

Why do we have to be tested and tempted to this extent.

Why can't love be clear.

The voices be on mute... Just for one day.

Why do they hate me so much...? I never did anything to them.

Why?

Why am I still here...?

---Love 3