The Rain On Monday

Written words are the only thing my mind can find ease in.


39. Shadows

The evening sun cast shadows on the pavement of the people and objects in its glow.

I lurked amongst the shadows, taking form of my own in my little unnoticed world.

I watched the world around me, but all I ever did and could ever do was simply watch.

I was a shadow, a mere product of an object in the way of the suns rays.

I followed people around and stayed silent, because after all, I was just a shadow of how better than me they were.

Sometimes I’d get tired of watching the world around me, but when I tried to interact, it was like they could only still see me as the shadow I had become.

I didn’t want to be a shadow anymore; so lifeless, so cold, so dark, and so withdrawn.

I didn’t want to be someone else’s shadow; I wanted to be me, even though it’d take some time to figure out who I really was on my own.

So, that’s what depression is like on a daily basis – you’re hidden in the shell of a lifeless, cold, dark, and withdrawn corpse of your old self.

You become accustomed to following other people around, doing what they do, not sure how to branch off, or if you’re even comfortable with that.

You’re hidden behind the famous glow of the people you look up to, and all you really want is someone to see you, but at the same time you’d rather go unnoticed and suffer silently.

If being depressed is for attention, then why do the depressed live in the shadows of their fantasy life?

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