It's a mess in here

I built my castle on a mirage.

I can feel the light has gone from my eyes, how do you not see it standing this close?

The saddest part is how ready you were to let me continue in ignorance.

You can’t please everyone, someone will always have something they don’t like about you-whether it be valid or not; that’s not your problem. In this life there is one person whose opinion you should value and hold dear-it’s you. Your own opinion. What you think about yourself. Because you have no one else to answer to but you, you’re the one who has to lie awake at night and replay scenarios and what-if’s and be okay with your decisions and who you are. No one else hears those thoughts or can quiet them but you. Be nice, be kind, but don’t let everyone else walk on that. If they have a problem with you and who you are, that’s their problem, not yours to fix. Leave it where it lays. Do not spread yourself thin for people who wouldn’t even think to do the same for you.

There’s some days, and I’m not sure whether it’s the grief or the depression, but it is absolutely crippling.

Every day I meet her. I walk to her smiling face as she grabs my hand and we sit. She tells me all of her past, all her worries and her fears. She tells me all the pain this life has given her, while the light in her eyes slowly dims. I can’t help but to want to hold her, to tell her she’s safe now-but how can I? Her fears are mine, her worry is mine, her pain mine. How can I tell her she’s safe if I’m not sure that it is safe here. So instead I smile, tell her it will be okay-to put on a brave face. Then I tell her I’ll see her again tomorrow, as usual. I can see the panic in her face, always the same expression. A cry for help. But how can I help her when I can’t even save myself? So I say goodbye and turn away from the mirror. Maybe tomorrow.

Now I remember why I was the bad guy. Why I was the one who hurt first.

Everyone talks about depression and their depressed friends and being that friend they need, but are you? Or are you getting mad at her because she doesn’t hang out, or even leave the house anymore? Are you guilt tripping her for not coming to that thing you invited her to? Throwing in the ‘yeah but you never come anyways’ or ‘you’d just bail’ as if she already didn’t know she had let you down. As if she didn’t fumble about with a simple ‘sorry can’t tonight’ for 25 minutes, typing and deleting and rewording and rethinking.

She screamed up at the skies, her cry bellowing between the claps of thunder, shaking the ground beneath her. The fire in her eyes burning brighter than the lightening that was crashing down around her. The ground opened up as she collapsed to her knees, every breath gone from her chest. She crumpled to the ground as her lips formed her last word.

It wasn’t until you that I understood why they named storms after people.

It was almost primitive, the way my heart beat for you.