depression feels like.
a thick, oppressive fog.
not existing inside my body.
smashing my head against walls in an attempt to find quiet.
being sucked into a whirlpool, and stuck.
sitting on the opposite side of a fogged up window to the rest of the world.
hairline cracks in a teacup.
constant consumation by failure, shame & guilt.
living a few seconds behind the world, & constantly trying to catch up.
standing on the edge of a cliff on the tips of my toes.
holding my breath.
looking down the barrel of a gun and sighing.
infinite impossibility & hopelessness.
poison running through my veins. arteries of thick, black charcoal.
as if i could never bleed the inferiority from my system.
being stuck under a lake of ice.
everything too fast, too loud, too intense.
but - so i keep reminding myself - it never lasts forever. eventually it lifts for a while, and i remember why i don’t just let go. last week i participated in a new NGO’s first training. their aim is to empower young people with experience of mental illness to share their stories and experiences. it was really amazing to sit in a room with another nine people and speak openly about the last ~ten years, how things have changed, and where i am now. i don’t think i’m brave enough yet to share my story wider than that, but it felt good.