SORRY MAMA

He feels feisty then he is tired again. It has become a routine.

Fear. 

Tired body. 

Rush thoughts that won’t cease.

Sadness.

He can’t remember where the rain started beating. When every thought became a raging battle, every breath he takes a war, and he is just not winning anymore.

 This depression has become a monster. On the inside, his muscles are sore and his bones brittle. There is this constant numbness in his body. He covers it with that pretty smile and fake laugh.

He is nothing like his former self. Behind the iron clad façade he puts  on is self loathing, drowning in fear and spiraling down the drain in a fast pace.

Hoping against hope that someone sees through his fake smiles and laughs and offers a helping hand. Someone to blow on these dying embers and bring them back to life.

He hates his phone and loathes being around people. Everyone seems fine to him. Like they’re living in a bubble or something. 

Nights are the worst. When the world is quiet, the demons in his head are at their loudest. And he can’t drown them- they know how to swim. He can’t even sleep. Maybe because of the tears that escape his eyes or because of the pain of trying to hold them back so that he doesn’t disturb people.

He’s holding on but his body is caving in. 

He’s done being sad and feeling this emptiness. His mind needs closure to this endless monotony.

And now he sits with his knees to his face. Tears running down his face. He covers his mouth to silence the muffled cries. Thinking of the easiest way to fall without feeling the pain. No slashed wrists.

Gathering his last strength, he writes a note, sorry mama.

One by one, he takes his antidepressants pills until the tube is empty.

His world will not end in one big bang or scream. Rather, in one gasp and then turn black.

Please check up on your friends regularly. There is pain behind the ‘I’m okay.’ And mental illness is real.

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