Silence Kills

Silence.

They say silence can kill you. Headaches, body aches, and emotional pain and physical pain, which leads to overthinking and letting your thoughts overtake you. Kind of like how Ursula, the sea witch in the ocean, stole and took the Little Mermaid’s voice.

You finally breathe, thinking that yesterday’s problem is in the past when, in fact, it’s today’s problem, tomorrow’s problem, and the problem of every day after that. The slow and steady breaths try to keep you sane but pull you towards the undertow of the water and hold you there until you drown.

It’s like sitting in a dark room with loud sounds coming from outside. When you can’t move, can’t run, can’t hide, it’s almost like your brain is paralyzed. You sit still, and instead of looking pretty, the thoughts drown you.

It’s only in those rare moments when he pulls me to his chest and tells me how much he loves me that it all goes away until the next day.

Run, I want to run, I want to hide. Get me away from the monster inside, get me away from those sharp teeth, get me away from drowning deep down by the coral reefs.

Silence,

They say it kills. The darker the room, the deeper the thoughts. Like a tornado ready to hit, but somehow I just can’t seem to find a cave to keep me safe.

I’m dizzy, I’m tired, I’m weak. Please, God, I feel like I’ve just been beaten. Wanting to escape, I look for a place to hide. Oh wait, my cave is where I’ll feel safe inside.

Oh, the sweet, calm, and quiet cave, but little did I know that cave just made things worse. I’m angry, I’m lonely, I’m depressed. I want my old life back.

On the run again, running from my life, running from wanting to take the dive. Running from my worries, running from my thoughts, running from what I thought life was about. I run and run until I can’t no more. My feet are sore, my body is weak. I want to just sit here in this unknown place until the following week.

I pull the covers over my head, I look at the clock near my bed. The clock strikes twelve, my eyes are tired. I just can’t seem to close my eyes while my brain is wired with thoughts and worries and aches and pains. Someone just turn off the damn lights that are keeping me awake.

Hold me close, tell me it’s gonna be okay, go through my pain with me, and then when I’m fine, just let me be. I want my mom; I want my dad—but do I? Do I really? When all they’re gonna do is tell me what’s right and wrong, and the rest is up to me. Please, oh please, I just want my mind to be at peace.

The darkness, in a way, is keeping me warm under my blanket and away from the thunderstorm. I bury my head in my pillow. I take a deep breath and wonder to myself, do people really understand how I feel, or am I fighting this alone? Do they feel the pain and worry of every day? Will I make it? Will I make it? Do they live fear-free? Oh gee, I wish that was me.

My long-lost friend, depression, you have come to me again. You found me here, lying awake in my bed. You always come to me in hard times; you always find me in the corners of rooms. You find me and hunt me down. You fill my mind with sorrow and a whole bunch of hell. Please go away; I don’t want you right now. Please just don’t make me drown. I know you have a tendency of doing that, but please, not today, not tomorrow, and not in the days after that. Please leave out your friends like anxiety, ED, and self-doubt. All you really do is make me sit and sit and pour my heart out.

Memories,

Oh, how they’ve come to haunt my mind.

Memories, oh, how I wish I could just leave them behind.

She braided my hair and kissed me goodnight. She cooked dinner for me, and I ruined her life out of spite. My dearest mother, how I wish I could say sorry for everything I’ve done. I wish that none of this had ever happened. Regretting my life is what I do when I get like this—missing the past, missing the memories of how everything was. Little did I know that I’d be here, lying in the darkness of night, spilling my heartache out and wishing I could throw it away so it would never come back to haunt me again.

Goodnight for all and goodnight for now, until tomorrow I ask, what now?