Depression feels as if you are sitting at the bottom of an ocean, yet in reality is more similar to a mouse in a teacup. So, take my hand, come see the world at its best, come see the miracles of creation. Let it seep into your soul and give you the same worth as the little mouse, for the humble heart realises that this is enough for all.
The thing about this ocean, this depression, the thing nobody is ever brave enough to tell you, is that you must learn to swim to shore by yourself. You must find the strength to climb onto the beach no matter how sharp the rocks are, or how they cut. You must then learn to stay there and not fall into the comforting familiarity of the salt and the sensation of drowning. You must go through the agony of learning how to walk by yourself. But when you've been through all that, you are free to find your heaven. You are free to help others find their heaven. You are free to feel happy and become comfortable with that emotion for the rest of your days.
Don't tell me I can knock these walls down if I try, because I don't want to listen anymore. Just putting one foot in front of the other isn't as easy as it looks, and I can't recall the last time a happy thought entered my brain, or a even the memory of a smile. So you can keep your hugs and the well intentioned words because they can't heal me and neither can your love. This depression is an ocean, yet not the ones full of life and colour. My ocean is a million shades of grey the same as those old-fashioned photographs.
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.