Tick Tock

In a pond of thoughts I’m diving, I’m thinking lots about everything that’s happening in my life. Everything just seems quite blank.

Going back in time, I was not the same person, I was simpler, and everything surrounding me seemed enjoyable and simple.

That one day, I was walking down the street, peeking looks at those little random stores on both sides of the street and my feelings start to be in anguish.

I went home, laid down and let myself dive into my grayish-blue duvet trying to solve that myself’s puzzle and place the pieces into place , but every time I try , there’s a tilt that makes everything worse, makes everything just irreplaceable to me, every time I try , I was actually stepping out of my comfort zone.

I don’t remember being anxious whenever I heard someone’s knock on my door, never stressed whenever I meet new people but it’s no longer the same.

The noise people usually adapt to is not the type of music I’d like to live in.

It’s very harsh when people tell you that you’re making an elephant out of a butterfly, but the fact I’m not. We live lives’ full of stories, the happy ones and the dull ones and others expect you to only narrate happiness, what about the ones craved thoroughly in my heart, suffocating me and abducting my energy that I’m trying to use neatly, but I just can’t.

On the other side of the coin, it’s still the same, fighting yourself twice a day, standing in front of a mirror and crashing into it with your fist trying to control your emotions, but you’re not capable of doing so, so you end up with a bloody hand.

TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

Here starts your doubt clock.

A clock of whining and doubt, low self-esteem and heinous hatred to thy self.

Every single night while others are peacefully sleeping, I’m peacefully having a conversation with my depression. It’s like a living visible demon clinging so playfully from my room’s ceiling, ready to face me and crawl on my body to hug me tight as if I’m his new baby-born.

 My depression makes sadness and doubt very cushy rather than being happy, whilst it’s not supposed to be like that!

You know that mellifluous tones heard at churches, you know that madrigals people are used to make.

My depression does the same but instead of being beautiful, it’s always so hard on me to take!

•LOUD NOISES PLAYED

 •SCREAMS IN THE PLAYGROUND

And it’s still like a boring cassette that must be played on every

Car-ride.

Needless to say, I’ve been through a long way, I’ve passed the obstacles alone though I thought I’d be dead.

Some days, I wish I was a witch , so I could bottle up portions of feelings that I miss , portions of  happiness , love , support , trust and self-care.

I’m trying to point out the fact that I’m not begging for anyone’s sympathy and I’m not pathetic , that help you’re giving as if you’re obliged to , is not needed, it’s more of you accepting who I am and who I’ve become to be .

I’m trying hard to kick out the monster who’s hosted inside me, the curse I’m cursed with.

From day one, I’ve been sharing the good and dreadful moments with my diary, I’ve been so in love with expressing my emotions to it, a thorough lover indeed.

To it , I’m not judgmental and I wish those around me would be like it , I’m not turning to a bad person, I’m just trying to adjust to the pains .

I know how it feels like on the behalf of all those who’re going through a lot.

It’s not like I’m holding a remote control and pressing on the depressive mode , it’s not always that fun being lonely, but I’m not compromising to fakeness around me.

I’m still the same soul, but no longer the same frame.