If depression was a room….
If depression was a room, the handle on the doors would be on the other side. Its floor would be covered in a cactus carpet. The shutters on the outside of the windows would be fastened by a million nails. Its walls would be painted a dark shade of grey that all the furniture blend in with. So grey you confuse what is real and what isn’t. What is reality and made-up? The ceiling would resemble a black blanket of a sky. Like a deep and dark well sitting right above you. A well drier than the Sahara with air so suffocating. Every now and then the well would have a sudden gush of water flooding down on you. The water itself drowns in your tears. It tries to drown you but it’s always too late.
Though the room is dark, at times, a ray of sun comes peeking sneakily through the shutters. It lands inside the palm of your hand. It tells you of the beauty outside the room. The warmest sun. The bluest of skies. The lush green. The fluffy, cute animals. It tells you they are only as far as you allow yourself to believe.
Today, I feel like I am locked in this room and that ray has lost its way. I know it will return but it always seems like forever.
Love to you all
2 Responses to “If depression was a room”
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