I stared off into the distance and I thought I could see your face. My eyes went in and out of focus like some shitty camera and my heart stopped for a second. I could hear breathing. I could smell you. A smell I once loved and now it made me gag. I shut my eyes and I kept them closed for a long time, until it went dull. My senses were no longer with me and for a second I thought I had felt death’s sweet embrace. That’s until I was thrown back into the hustle and bustle of nothing.. nothing but my own room. Why had this empty box of a home suddenly awaken me from my daze? Maybe my mind had finally given up and tried to save myself from falling into a collapsing pit of despair. I still don’t know. All I know is when I opened my eyes you were no longer there. You never were. Not even for a second. I try to recall moments in which I could feel your presence and not a single one comes to mind. Yes, physically you had been there. I could see you, I could reach out and touch you, but mentally you weren’t with me. Emotionally, you were barricaded from me and anyone else that had tried to break down your walls and get acquainted. Just because someone is there, doesn’t mean they are present. This is something I am just coming to realize.. You were in another world. When you were fucking me I’m sure you were inside someone else. I’m not sure if I’m okay with that, but I’ve accepted it. Your, “I love you’s” were nothing but a vomit of words and they weren’t meant for me just as mine weren’t meant for you. You were unworthy. You were blessed with my presence and I was riddled with disease by yours. I am no longer sick. It finally feels like my illness is gone and I am healthy. My mind is clear and I can breath. I sit in silence. I stare at a wall while a single tear rolls down my face and a smile appears. I am free.
I stare at the ceiling for a moment and take a deep breath in and when I exhale, the word “Emancipation” escapes my lips. My legs that once felt broken and frail are now strong and I stand. I take my time and I appreciate the time I am able to hold my own body weight. It feels like it has been so long since I have been able to walk. Days ago I was a newborn baby; helpless, weak, naive. On this day I have become the woman I was before I met you; strong, so unbelievably strong. So when days pass and I hear my phone ring I don’t grab it right away to check and see if it’s from you. Once so desperate to find your name on my screen acknowledging me I find myself ignoring it. After a while I check, it is you.
“What if I decide I want something more, or did last night, what would you have done?”
I am angered. I am shaken to my very fucking core. What if you decide you want something more? I have been begging for your commitment since the day we met and now that our love is gone you are the one left wanting. You do not get to make the decisions anymore. So I reply.
“You’ve missed your window of opportunity with me. I love you and I would have spent my entire life with you, but this is it. I told you I can’t wait for you anymore and you know I meant it.”
That’s it. That is the end of our chapter. You are dismissed from my life and as God as my witness, you will never be welcomed back in.
Depression is a funny thing. People that have never suffered from it assume that you’re either constantly miserable all the time, or you’re just really sad because of a very specific reason. However, that is not the case. Depression is lingering despondency. Depression is the noose hanging in the closet door behind you while you giggle with your lover as they wisper sweet nothings in your ear. Depression is a firm grasp on your heart while you lay in your bed for the seventeenth consecutive hour. Depression does not descriminate. Depression will rule your entire day because it consumes all of your being. You can laugh, smile, love, and still have that thought in the back of your mind just telling you to end it all. The misery outweighs the joy and no matter how much love is brought into your life you still end up crying yourself to sleep at night, hoping and praying for the end. You are your depression. Mental illness is not a joke, it is not a catchy song on the radio, it is not a sharply written poem you find on some girls fucking Tumblr page. You are your illness, and your illness is you. It will take on whatever form it sees fit to maniulate you into digging yourself into the deepest hole it can. It can, and will kill you. If you let it
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