Everything was bright. It was for awhile. I was happy. I smiled like I meant it, people noticed. People were happy for me. But something happened again. I started to slip. Something started pulling me down. It would take me at night, tell me I was safe in its arms. I felt safe, I let I take me in. But the pain started, I tried to break free from its grasp. I held my head up high and tried to break free. But it felt so nice, so familiar. I stayed there, crawled back into its arms, letting it put the blanket of pain and misery over me. I felt safe, but not joyful. It doesn’t let me eat, it makes me sick, and it tells me to take that knife and hurt yourself. Because it helps with the pain. It tells me everything will be okay. I fell for the act once more, the act of my Little Dark Monster.
Depression. Something so strong But yet so weak at the same time. It weighs you down. It holds you back. It feels... It feels like a dead body. Like carrying a dead body On your shoulders Everyday. It occupies your time You don't want to eat You can't sleep Hard to breath. Maybe you're the dead body. Maybe you're You're carrying.. Your own dead body.
Harper Lee displays a blah blah blah blah blah... My body hurts. It hurts. My head My body My mind. I'm tired And hungry But I can't eat Eating makes me sick. Can I go home? No. No. NO. My family will ask Why? Why! Why?! You think I know why?!? I don't know why! I have no reason! Do I ever have a reason!?! Why am I so fucking stupid? Why can't I write? Why can't I think? Why. Why. Why. Fucking Why?
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