I realized that feeling is like trying to fill an empty glass–you pour all of it only to realize the bottom has a crack that drains it all away.

Lately, the hair on my skin feels the air growing colder. My arms are covered with a layer of long sleeves, and yet the cold penetrates through—I shiver. I find that my blanket fails to meet its purpose. I get another one, lay it over me, and hope there's warmth as I wrap myself in it. I still feel the cold.

Six Months Six months, behind the curtains, missing the kiss of sunlight. Six months, under the sheets, not missing the chatter of friends. Six months, hiding behind white lies, not wanting to hurt some feelings. Six months, wandering in regret, wanting to start over again. Six months, unaware that time flew by, trying to constrain time. Six months, convincing myself, trying to feel better.

Still When the laughter dies down, with not an echo left ringing, my insides starting churning, to remind me that happiness is fleeting, and sadness is my constant.

Dysania The soft blanket wrapped its arms around me. It was trying to keep me— warm, to keep me— in bed, to keep me— here. When I would try to set myself free, It held tighter to keep me— from leaving, to keep me— from living, to keep me— here. Let me go, please. It's hard to breathe. Why do you like to keep me— I still feel cold, to keep me— I can't feel your warmth, to keep me— I hate it here. I hate you, too. I want to be alone; I won't be lonely. I beg of you, not to keep me— from leaving anymore, to keep me— from living anymore, to keep me— from being here anymore. Just go away, please. I despise you. Leave. Do not keep me— I am not yours, do not keep me— I do not want you, do not keep me— I want to live. #MentalIllness ##depression