PhantomQueen101

The world is colorful place that has been filled with black and red cruelty. Those who don't see it are only color blind to the obvious.

I put walls up because my insecurities were growing in my heart like weeds in a garden. I grew my garden walls high because I was afraid of failing. I was afraid of being myself, because I was afraid of rejection. I was afraid of others hurting me because of the two people who used me in ways you couldn’t imagine. So, I decided to keep everyone in my life at arms length. In the end, those walls ended up enclosing me, alone, in a garden. My garden has four walls and a ceiling so no one can penetrate or climb into it. Yet, the walls and ceiling keep the water and sun out. The flowers began wilting, and the food began rotting. The animals that kept me company died, and the beauty that was there became nothing more then a figment of what was. The memories of joy and sunshine ended up obliterating themselves. The walls that were supposed to protect my garden, ended up being the thing that harmed me the most. Now I am scratching at them with my nails, trying to tear them down. However, tearing down a brick wall with nails is so much harder then it seems. I have been in my garden so long, I forget how to be expressive through words. I’m suffocating in my own garden. My heart is my secret garden, and I have built my walls high.

I'm so tired of having to walk into a room and be someone I'm not. Pretending that I have a different past then I really do is getting painful, and trying to hide what should already be known is unbearable. Yet, letting it all ooz out could be just as agonizing. 

You know that girl who sits in the front of your class? Or the boy who is the football jock? Maybe it's that waitress you saw at red robin the other day? They were laughing and seemed happy right? What you can't see is what's running through their mind. You don't stop to realize how fake the smile is. You don't realize the cutts hidden under their clothes. You don't see them crying in the middle of the night, begging for death. You don't hear their plans of suicide. You don't understand, what they do. Depression never ends, until they do. Not truly. They will always struggle, and when they do, they're going to need a friend just to crawl under a blanket with them. Don't try to fix it, just try be there. They're not going to want to call you, they won't want to bug you with problems in their head. Call them every once in a while, just be a friend. 

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