An Excerpt from the Diary of a Nineteen Year Old Depressed

It hits you, all of it, all at once, on a normal Saturday evening, while you sip the green tea under the sky so vast and the one with the perfect concoction of blues and violets. Your world, it shatters, it crumbles under the colossal burden of your hopes, aspirations, expectations & the love you deserve but the one which never finds its way to you. The next thing you know is the world you spent your life building up, filling up with petty peeps, thinking it’ll always remain intact even if you don’t; your very own small world is falling apart so rapidly yet silently and you can’t even help it. The chaos within you is unexplainable, it’s so devastating yet the outside world seems so ‘normal’, so ‘unreal‘. You break. You suffocate. You want to breathe but you can’t. You want to live but life is so dull. You want to make something out of yourself but you don’t find the strength in you anymore so you just break down with no one to hold you. Your broken pieces, they just lie on the ground, right in front of you whilst no one comes for your rescue. Everybody is busy attending a party, hanging out with friends or getting ready for a sleep over and you just sit with a cup of green tea in your hand and wonder where exactly you went wrong. The same torturous questions wander through your mind. They take up the every corner. They push out the happy memories. It’s their kingdom now. You’re stuck in the realm of your unanswerable questions. Why isn’t life the same for you as it is for others; colourful, vibrant, eventful. Why do people end up doing you wrong. Why does nothing fascinates you. Why do you feel hollow from within. Every day, every moment why does the agony only increase. How do you call for help. Where are your friends. Did you even have any in the first place. Why can’t you recall the last time you were really happy. What are the things which make you happy. Why are you stuck. Where are you stuck. You wonder and wonder until you can’t anymore. A white invisible cloud of sadness overwhelms your whole being. Everything’s hazy. The whole world seems murky. You seem nonexistent, insignificant and all the things people don’t aspire to be. You seem worthless. You’re tired. There’s no point in going on. There’s no point in fighting for this life, for yourself, for ‘your people’ anymore. Everyone is happy in their respective world. You couldn’t give yourself the happiness you deserve so you give up. You give up because there’s nothing else you can do. You want to end the misery. The sadness is killing you, but for all you know, you won’t let it. In your heart of hearts you know, you’ll kill yourself before anything else can kill you…

It’s high time we talk about depression and put an end to the stigma associated with it in our society. Believe me, when I say depression is as real as your existence. We’ve lost so many peeps to depression and it’s really time we accept depression as it is i.e: a mental illness. HAVING SUICIDAL THOUGHTS IS NO JOKE; NO DRAMA. Brown societies need to realise that this is very real & very destructive. Please watch out for the ones you care about. Depression is such a toxic illness; you won’t even realise when your dear ones are suffering from it but it’ll eat them up from inside. If you’re someone or you know someone who suffers from depression, I urge you to seek professional help. DON’T HESITATE PLEASE. DEPRESSION IS NOT OKAY AND YOU CAN’T JUST SNAP OUT OF IT. I repeat, DEPRESSION IS AS REAL AS OUR EXISTENCE.
It’s okay to seek help if you think you’re depressed. No one deserves to have suicidal thoughts and if you do have, you’re not mad; ‘depression is an illness just like Diabetes or Asthma’ and yes, everyone deserves to be treated.

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Tell me

Tell me you’ll stay with me
When the world has fast gone to sleep
And darkness engulfs my whole being
To watch me as I weep
Or caress my trembling feet
If I have one of those paradoxical sleeps

Tell me you know this inside your heart deep
Even when I forget to nudge constantly
I’m yours to forever keep
And you won’t let the feelings seep
Of vex,emptiness and triviality.

Tell me even if the feelings creep
The ones which I often fear
Onto the wall of your heart steep
You’ll fight back every feel
And won’t endorse the growth of rubbish heap

Tell me even if the voices bleep
The ones which scare the heck outta me
Loud and firm on your mind’s jeep
For they feed the weeds, yes indeed
You’ll remember the times our crop was reap

Tell me you’ll stay with me
Not to walk back on your words only
When the storm comes and the lion roars
You’ll stay with me behind the closed doors
And embrace me as I embrace my demons
You’ll love me as I hate the mirror.

Of Unicorns and Miracles

Surviving and being alive are two different things; the sooner you realize this, the better.

Only fools believe in unicorns
I’m a fool I believe
But God,
Let me believe in miracles
And unicorns
And mermaids
Let me be happy with my beliefs
Just this once
Let me be hopeful
Let me believe that people still fall in love
With places and books and caf├ęs and humans
Let me believe love exists
In smiles and texts and hugs and cuddles
Let me believe loved ones can live an eternity together
In moments and dreams and hopes and admist all impossibilities
Let me believe some people really stick by you
During happiness and misery alike
Let me be naive
Let me be heartbroken
But Oh God, let me be alive
Just this once
I want to be alive.

Colder than the Freezing Kitchen Floor

Came across this piece in my notepad app a.k.a the hub of my miscellaneous-unfinished-notes; it’ll probably remain like this forever. An excerpt from something which is equally unknown to me as it might be to anyone else.

3 a.m:

Her back slid against the wall
With her Bare feet and naked soul
She sat on the freezing kitchen floor
With an urge to explore
Her brusies well secured
She is unknown to herself now
Her skin is not free of the old scars
But she has learned to hide them well
Her mind is boggled up
She is ever messed up
The coldness is searing onto her body
She seems but unflinched
Maybe because she’s numb
Or perhaps because,
Her soul is colder than the freezing kitchen floor!