The-Dormouse17

There is a child, wearing my clothes, and my skin, and my scent, but isn't me. Sin is like ink, it bleeds into a person, coloring, making you someone other than you used to be. And it's indelible. Try as hard as you like, you can never get yourself back. Words can't pull me back from the edge. Neither can daylight. This isn't something to get over, it is an atmosphere I need to learn to breath, grow gills for transgression, and take it into my lungs with every gasp. It is a startling thing. I wonder who this person is, going through the motions of my life. I want to take their hand, comfort them. And then I want to push this stranger, hard

Still Waiting Loss and disappointment They dull with repetition The more life’s experiences make one a victim The more one becomes numb The less one feels The more one is able to bear When the pain piles up It loses the power to hurt It becomes a comfortable routine Day after day…no positive change realized Crippled by the lack of actual control in events One still tries to be a part of possible reconciliation To bring about communal fulfillment Never losing sight of hope Merely unable/unwilling to feel Because feeling reopens the cumulative wound   “The ‘light’ will arrive” One repeat

I've heard so many people tell those who suffer depression to just 'cheer up.' I wonder if they can really believe that it's that simple. Depression isn't just sadness. It is emptiness, it is misery. It is pain and nothingness at once. When you are truly depressed you lack the ability or will to cheer yourself up. No one just 'has depression.' You suffer from it. This is depression: You will wake at 5, 6, maybe 7am, feeling as though you had only just fallen asleep. It's likely you did. If you don't have to be somewhere, you could lie in bed for another 3 hours...too tired, too miserable and pathetic to crawl out of you bed. Or maybe you wi

Dear world, I was a dreamer long before I was a cynic. I wanted to help the world and heal them of their pains and insecurities. I wanted to be a doctor, a surgeon, and I wanted to work hard at my job, not because of the money, not because of the respect but because I wanted to give back to the humanity that I hadn't yet lost faith in. I wanted that so much, but world, you bent me and broke me to your will, and you eventually abandoned me like I never even belonged. I guess you could say I started learning your little lessons one by one, but that's not really right because a whole plethora of them crashed into my front door one night, and I