Originally, her soul was as white as snow. As pure as a newborn baby. As innocent as they come. But over time, that white faded to dark. It started slowly, then all at once. The way one falls into a deep sleep, that’s how she lost her authentic, sinless soul. As trauma trickled in she began to lose her childlike self. As she grew older, she grew more and more cold. Like the light had simply gone out.
Stand up, Be brave. Let the true story unravel Cuz what you think you know about him or her, let it be known, you’re precisely unsure. We as depressed individuals don’t need to shear our skin, get high or long for our goodbyes. We just want the true and accurate cure for this burden we can’t help but feel. Through our hearts and our minds were in chains laced with vines. Im not asking for something grand or brand new. Give something from your heart, not wal-mart. Give the gift of love. Not hate. Being judgemental won’t give you the faith. Give the gift, of time, effort, and affection, and there should be no need for rejection.
My thoughts are intrusive bombs I can’t fathom into words. I’d like to think of myself as a good man, but then bam!! I get hit with another blasphemous, horrendous, god-awful thought. “I can’t help it, I’m a good person!!” I scream to my demons. They whisper back “You are a disgrace. You should never have been born!” Tension rises within me. It starts in my stomach and works it’s way up to my chest. It feels like the demons in my head have trapped my soul inside my body. The light inside is desperately trying to get out. But it’s stuck inside the anxiety. I must confess. I must let my soul escape through my words. I must be seen as the good person I long to be.
It can be uncovered, But never understood. It can be interesting, But never reality, again. Memories of the unknown live inside this place. Who lived here? What were their stories? How did they feel? Were they happy? Did they have a tragic ending? Why did they abandon their home? The warm southern air hits my face through the back door. It ruffles my hair. I take a deep breath in, I want to know why?
When I look in the mirror, I see someone who looks like the person I appear to be. The person I am in pictures. The person others see. For some reason, this person doesn’t look like me. Like my soul, like my heart. Like what I love and who I am. Her eyes don’t capture the depth of my perspective. Her hair doesn’t curl with my authentic creativity. Her nose can’t smell the true intentions of others. Though she is my body, she is not who I think I should look like. Who is this meat body staring back at my soul?
I woke up with my vision blurry and not able to breathe air. I panicked. Moving my legs and arms felt different. With each kick and punch I felt the weight of my body at whole. The thought of being underwater struck my mind and I immediately began treading water. I pushed my body upwards as much as I could, but still couldn’t feel the oxygen hitting my lungs. The panic grew more extreme. I could feel my chest ignite into flames as the fear of dying came to me full force. As I kept fighting for my life, I pictured my mom in my mind. The thought of her being alone again without me by her side to care for her crept in. My head began to throb. Pain ran down my temples to my ears, but I couldn’t give up. Not yet. Memories appeared in my mind like a slide show. My mom, my little brother, Zippy. ‘I’m not ready to die. I’m not ready to leave them. Please God, save me!’ I pleded. That’s the last thing I remember. It went black after that. I was sure I was dead. That is until I heard distant voices. Was I in heaven? Or was I alive still? The voices became closer and closer, until I could just barely manage to flutter my eyes open. I was in a kitchen. Surrounded by people I’d never seen before. Where was I? And What happened to me?
