Did you see her? The woman sitting on that park bench, headphones on, staring straight ahead, looking as ‘normal’ as can be. What about him? That man shuffling pass you on the street, hands stuffed deep into his pocket, he shoved you as he passed and you grunted irritably, remember?
Do see them every day? ‘Normal’ people that just blend into the background of your life, the noise in the background, the static, the nuisance. Well stop. Just stop, be silent for a moment, really look, really listen. All around you are silent cries for help from everyday people, with problems just like yours or worse.
Now stop, and listen to the words inside your soul, the silent cries of help inside of you, the voices you drown out by mixing in the outside world around you. The voices that make you want to bleed inside, cry out blood, dig the wounds, the bites of the demons that dwell inside of you.
That is a fraction of what it feels like, a fraction of words that can paint the story of what it’s like to live with a soul crushing depression. You want to be as ‘normal’ as everyone around you seems to be, you want to stop feeling, yet you hate the numbness, you passionate yet you numb. You love, yet you hate, you need, yet you reject. When you realise what’s going on inside your head, how much easier it becomes to stop fighting but submit to the darkness, but you crave that light, the light that shines bleakly and rarely in a life clouded with grey.
And no, your life isn’t horrible, in fact your life is pretty amazing, you kick ass at everything that you commit to, and you shine in everyone’s eyes but your own, because the demons inside you won’t allow you to feel worthy, to feel accomplished.
You are so aware, so aware of the unbalanced chemicals numbing your emotions, not allowing you to enjoy things the way everyone else seems to. In the end you accept it, you accept this is you, you accept that you are part human, part monster, because your demons haunt you and mix with the juices of unbalanced chemicals stirring rapidly in your brain.
And you design a mask, a mask that makes you look like everyone else, a mask that makes you blend into the background. Become part of the noise you use to drown out who you really are so that no one suspects.
This isn’t you? Well this is me; this is my living with unbattled demons and ‘mild’ depression. Next time you see that seemingly normal woman on the bus, or the random barrister with a plastered smile handing you a coffee, that could be me, or could it be you? This is my living with a part of me that died, this is the musings of a dead soul.