*warning:* this might make you very sad. depression is something i'm very burdened about, and i do everything i can to make people with depression feel better, even for a while, but this is really the cold hard reality of it. if you've never come across someone with depression, this might be a bit of a shock.
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so often i see you. you’re broken. i can tell, it’s no secret. you open up your heart to the world, then close it abruptly. you want to be known, then feel you’ve revealed too much, made yourself too vulnerable.
i know you’re hurting. your heart bleeds from invisible wounds, unseen blood covering your chest in a sticky suffocating feeling. i see the pain inside, and it makes me cry. you’re struggling so hard; i’m afraid you’ll give up any moment.
you feel that you hurt everyone around you. you feel that you hurt yourself. the one you loved has hurt you.
you feel that it’s selfish to cry. you want to be happy for others instead of crying over your own “small problems.”
you never wanted him to leave. you loved him, and he left you. you gave him gold, and he threw it to the wayside.
you pour out your heart into twisted and broken art, venting your feelings on paper, your black pen scratching and making the paper bleed red ink.
you’re tired of tears.
anxiety, depression, insecurities, and doubt plague you.
and i’m afraid that sometimes when you’re alone, you take a real blade and cut the pain out of your system, bleeding out into the sink. the coppery red smell of blood makes you feel better, and you feel you deserve the pain that you feel inside and out.
i see your broken pieces, and it makes me cry. i know the pain you hold inside, i know it cuts you like a knife, slashing open your soul. i know you feel that you would rather die than hold your broken pieces together. i know you feel that this is all there is, there is nothing more to life than this torture, this torment. i know you feel that love and hope are fake. i know that depression has hit you like a sledgehammer hits a concrete wall.
but you never deserved it.
you are so broken; your slivers are sharp and jagged, the edges cut like the knives inside. but they are beautiful. the walls of depression seem to be closing in on you. but it’s an illusion; they will open.
you are beautiful. you are loved.
perhaps love is hiding. but everything that is hidden can be found if you only look hard enough.
perhaps hope has shattered. but even shattered things can be put back together again.
i look at you and i see a mosaic; your broken pieces have created something lovely. perhaps every piece of you has been shattered by the torture inside, but you are beautiful nonetheless. you are a masterpiece.
i look at you and i see silver. silver, the color halfway in between white and black. silver, the color that shines.
i look at you and i see a moon, shining in the dark with a white light. sometimes the moon is full, providing light in the darkness. sometimes it’s a silver sliver in the sky. sometimes it disappears. but it never leaves for long.
happiness is like that silver sliver--sometimes there, sometimes gone, but always shining even when we can’t see it.
grab a hold of that happiness. grab it and never let go.
please remember that i love you. remember that you are beautiful. and never, never give up.
---------if the person to whom i wrote this ever reads it, know this: i know that every letter of this might be true. but i also know that i love you. i will always love you, no matter what. so please hold on, and stay alive. i love you so much.
~~zoë wingfeather
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