Depression: A state of mind—a word so perfectly defined, but a feeling so hard to explain. In most scenarios, the word ‘black’ comes to mind, the way colours your heart’s eyes could usually see suddenly lose their spark and somehow all you’re left with is the darkness that aligns with your soul’s mind.
Black: Usually not a colour, just the absence of it.
On most days, I find myself in a feat where the darkness and the light both fight endlessly to find a place in my heart. Still, all I feel is the darkness that resides in me and every second of every endless moment reminds me that darkness wins the fight again and again. Maybe I should find a way to let the light win, but how can you win a battle when you have no control in a fight with something you can’t see?
Then, there are the memories of the light I once had, the way they dance in my past feels like I can’t rely on just that to ‘stand still’ in the fight, so I constantly find ‘ways’ to put the memories on ice. These ways come in the form of pills and magical drugs that I fall on, in the hopes that they will turn into potions that can distract me if they fail to save me.
A frail attempt my mind created to keep the colorful memories frozen in time. Then again, maybe I don’t want to win, maybe I don’t want to fight it, but that’s only because I’ve gotten so used to maneuvering around the darkness for so long that I’ve lost sight of what ‘light’ looks like.
The way I see it,
Everything turns to dust,
The smile on the face of a friend, telling you she loves you.
The eyes of the person you love when they speak silently about how they never want you gone.
Everything I know, everything I feel, everything I see, turns to dust and it all started the moment the darkness seeped in and took away every ounce of colour I had in me.
The Root: For me, the very root of my never-ending, unexplainable sadness is buried deep inside the soil of my heart. It’s hard to dig deep to the very beginning of the root when all you see are the branches: the problems, the ache and everything between are the curved up branches that turn sadness into depression. It doesn’t end there. Somehow, as a man, a lot is expected of you. “Don’t cry,” it’s a sign of weakness; but really, what they do not tell you is that crying is human and being weak gives more room for strength. So cry today man! And maybe tomorrow won’t be a never-ending pang of sadness that is unexplainable in ways no one can understand.
The Light: Maybe it is not something you spend a day and forever trying to find, it is something you strive to create in an effort to thrive colourfully, with an awfully hopeful reminder that darkness will always lurk, not to destroy whatever light you end up creating, but only to make the light even brighter and worth holding on to.
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