LettingSecretsGo

Loving someone with depression is hard.
No matter the day you're having you must smile and wear your brave face because all it takes is one moment of weakness to set them back. Forget about birthday's, anniversaries, or celebrations because something bigger, darker is filling their soul. Kind gestures go unnoticed because they are already carrying the world. And now it's your job to take hold of that world and carry it like it's nothing and you'll shove every ounce of emotion, good and bad, that you bare so deep into your soul, it will only come out through silent tears in the lonliest kind of darkness. You'll tiptoe on eggshells. And when you slip, because you will, the horrible names won't stop. And when that fist makes the insufferable connection you'll crumble. But if a single tear falls or yelp cries out in desperation it will set it all back. So you must take a deep breath and wear your bravest face. 

 

If I could go back…

I wouldn’t have thrown newspapers at people’s windows at 3 in the morning.

I wouldn’t have tp’d people’s houses
                especially not when it was going to rain

I wouldn’t have hung tampons on their doors
                and stuck pads on their cars.

I wouldn’t have sprayed “niagger”
                in silly string on their car

I wouldn’t have ding dong ditched.

I wouldn’t have gossiped and lied.

I wouldn't have rolled my eyes
                 and talked back

I wouldn’t have laughed at their cruel jokes.

I wouldn’t have said “yes” as a joke.

I wouldn’t have sat idly while all those kids ate alone
                because I had more in common with them than I realized.

I wouldn’t have bullied people
                and made them feel small.

I hate who I was. I hated myself then and I hated who I was now. I've changed, of course. Grown up. But there's no taking back the things I've done. There's no erasing it and if I could change who I was, I would.
 
 

Format: LettingSecretsGo
 

I go on Witty every few months.
I check if my old friends have been online. For most of them…it’s been two years. I remember the fake marriages we had. The jealousy we shared. The exchanging numbers. The sending pictures. The kiking. The all-nighters. I go on Witty every few months to see if anyone has been online. These people new my darkest secrets. My scariest thoughts. My happiest hours. I check my old account to see if my old friends have messaged me. Sometimes I’ll get a message with a number and a quick sentimental message : I miss you. Most of the time it’s nothing. It’s bare.It doesn't matter. I don't reply anyway. I have to move on from a teenage girl's obsession. I’d like to say I don’t care. I’d like to not want to log in anymore. But, after five years it’s still hard to let go.

 

I always wonder why birds stay in the same place
when they can fly anywhere on Earth.
Then I ask myself the same question.




 

Format: LettingSecretsGo
 

We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus!
That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.