If you haven't had depression, it's pretty hard to understand unless you have it, right? Or at least, it was for me. I'd had friends and family who had been struggling with mental illnesses, but it was so hard to relate because I just couldn't understand why they were so sad. In fact, it took me an estimated 6-months (give or take) to even figure out that something was amiss with myself, and a further 6 months to fully accept it.
I was trying to figure out what I'd write to give you a better idea of what it feels like. I think it's a good thing to get an understanding of what mental illnesses actually are- it goes towards a) erasing the stigma b) creating sympathy and d) helping supporters know what to do. But I didn't really know how I could do that in a blog post. So, instead, I went through the Stories/Poetry folder on my laptop, and found this poem I wrote for a Lit assignment. It's very teen-angsty, but also quite accurate. It's written in the style of E.E. Cummings.
The Room
The Room is dark.
Night.
Darkness.
A Dark Room.
Nothing.
There is a sound in the room. A sound. A sound. A sound. A sound
Moan. Sharp. Huff-
Wrack. Gasp. Breath,
half
half of a perilous wisp. just one. (a burnt-out puff, floating in the blackness).
You cannot see it.
It exists.
Wrack. Gasp. Breath. Sob, sharp. Moan. Gasp.
con
sum
ed
Transcendent light. Off-white. Rustlereflect. haunting. eerie sky.
Wrack. Gasp- sob. wrack-
Sharp. Moan. sob- Wrack, gasp.
Paling linen flesh. Terminal grey-blue.
The Room is shadowed.
The Room has fangs.
The Room is hunting.
‘pitiful soul’
The Room stalks its prey.
Moan. Sharp. Huff-
Wrack. Gasp. BREATH,
Groan. Sharp. Hack-
Wrack. Gasp. BREATH,
Sniff-
Wrack. Gasp Sharp. Huff- Wrack.
Sharp. Huff-
BREATH, moan. Sharp. Hack-
Wrack. Gasp. BREATH, Huff- Wrack.
Gasp. Sharp. Huff- Wrack.
BRE… at… h….
The Room is dark.
Night.
Darkness.
A Dark Room.
Nothing.
There is silence in the room. Silence. Silence
none
none of a perilous wisp. not one. (no burnt-out puff, vanished in the blackness).
You cannot see it.
It is gone.
Whisper. Empty. Gone. Silence. Empty.
con
sum
ed.
The Room is dark.
Night.
Darkness.
A Dark Room.
Nothing.
I hope you guys get something out of this- maybe it's too cliché, but it makes sense to me and clicks really well with the memories I had of the depression (and also the anxiety).
Love always,
Em xx
I was trying to figure out what I'd write to give you a better idea of what it feels like. I think it's a good thing to get an understanding of what mental illnesses actually are- it goes towards a) erasing the stigma b) creating sympathy and d) helping supporters know what to do. But I didn't really know how I could do that in a blog post. So, instead, I went through the Stories/Poetry folder on my laptop, and found this poem I wrote for a Lit assignment. It's very teen-angsty, but also quite accurate. It's written in the style of E.E. Cummings.
The Room
The Room is dark.
Night.
Darkness.
A Dark Room.
Nothing.
There is a sound in the room. A sound. A sound. A sound. A sound
Moan. Sharp. Huff-
Wrack. Gasp. Breath,
half
half of a perilous wisp. just one. (a burnt-out puff, floating in the blackness).
You cannot see it.
It exists.
Wrack. Gasp. Breath. Sob, sharp. Moan. Gasp.
con
sum
ed
Transcendent light. Off-white. Rustlereflect. haunting. eerie sky.
Wrack. Gasp- sob. wrack-
Sharp. Moan. sob- Wrack, gasp.
Paling linen flesh. Terminal grey-blue.
The Room is shadowed.
The Room has fangs.
The Room is hunting.
‘pitiful soul’
The Room stalks its prey.
Moan. Sharp. Huff-
Wrack. Gasp. BREATH,
Groan. Sharp. Hack-
Wrack. Gasp. BREATH,
Sniff-
Wrack. Gasp Sharp. Huff- Wrack.
Sharp. Huff-
BREATH, moan. Sharp. Hack-
Wrack. Gasp. BREATH, Huff- Wrack.
Gasp. Sharp. Huff- Wrack.
BRE… at… h….
The Room is dark.
Night.
Darkness.
A Dark Room.
Nothing.
There is silence in the room. Silence. Silence
none
none of a perilous wisp. not one. (no burnt-out puff, vanished in the blackness).
You cannot see it.
It is gone.
Whisper. Empty. Gone. Silence. Empty.
con
sum
ed.
The Room is dark.
Night.
Darkness.
A Dark Room.
Nothing.
I hope you guys get something out of this- maybe it's too cliché, but it makes sense to me and clicks really well with the memories I had of the depression (and also the anxiety).
Love always,
Em xx