SILENCE: THE DARKEST VOICE
SOMEONE HEAR MY SILENCE Fighting back the tears, trying to grasp at your voice, determined to empower your body to move...to just pick up the pen to write something down, the voice in your head tells you, "Pick up the pen, write it down, make a note, it's so easy to move your hand toward the pen...pick it up!" Yet nothing, no movement, no thought as to how this will play out, your brain says, "What's the point? There's no point." You know you don't matter, nobody cares if you're alive, you don't even care if you're alive, everything is all wrong, if fact just being on this earth, being alive feels wrong. It feels like you're a prisoner of your own mind and body. It's said that depression is a mental struggle. Struggle? It's more than a "struggle." It's overwhelming when you can't breathe and there's the weight of an elephant on your chest, it's impossible to push something as heavy as an elephant