Marionette

I am a marionette. My every movement is being controlled. I am a robot simply following orders. People stop asking me how I was because machines don't have feelings but when the curtains close and I have finished the human act is the moment I am nothing but alone. Not human, not afraid, just there.

I still remember the first time I lied when someone asked me how I was. My grandfather asked how I was to be polite and I put on a smile saying I was fine. I burst into tears as soon as he left and told my mother I felt bad for lying. This was the first time I remember being truly depressed. My mother didn't ask me why I wasn't ok, didn't try to make me feel better, just told me lots of people lie and told me to leave her alone. Looking back I am kind of glad she never asked what was wrong because I never had one reason and still to this day I cannot bring justice when it comes to putting my depression into words but I will try. It was the bullies, the words, the actions, the taunts, the voices in my head, the knife, the poison, school, emotions, humans, trying to be human, pain, silence, torture, loss, goodbyes, everything in my life made me insane.

Depression is being afraid to go to sleep at night and being afraid to wake up the next morning. Depression is portrayed as a person because everyone is so afraid to accept that depression is tiny fragments of everyone combined to show what our dark sides look like. I am tired. Of fear. Of wandering hopelessly and no one asking me where I went. Of pretending. I'm just tired. Depression is alive and sitting in too many classrooms, looming over our rotting bodies that will one day be seen as nothing more than a corpse. So why? Why bother living now?

Behind darkness, there is a world of color. In a sky of blackness, there are stars. Behind pain, there can be happiness. So please, live.