Don't worry it was just a dream

it is about depression in a drea,

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1. It was my dream

When you suffer from depression, your senses are heightened. You think of things that don’t make sense. You think you are all alone. You get triggered by the easiest things depression makes me feel inexplicable things. I am an adult.

Love is such a funny thing it can exist even through the darkest times, the saddest moments; it is also expressed in the smallest ways. It exists in all of us. Although I am human I am not perfect. I am depressed; my children are my only hope of feeling free.

Love can do things to the mind; love can do things to your body. Love is that thing no one else can do. Meaning the times when I wasn’t in my phases I would have done anything in my power to save my family. I tried my best but did not succeed. Now all I am is an empty shell. I will not be able to hear the cries of my children; won’t hear the pain I put them through. All there is now is a deafening silence it competes with children in class. Darkness. It’s all I see, darkness as black as petrified wood. Dust will gather on my empty shell of a body. I can almost feel the spiders snaking their spindly legs over me, able to spin their webs of eternity.

The never ending nightmare continues. Joyful laughter that is music to my ears. My little ones dancing and playing; bringing tears to my eyes. The cyclone of truth suddenly hits, this is my nightmare, this is my dream; and this is my depression phase. I could still hold my precious babies. The dream of song, the dream of pain. I thought I was free, but I was broken. My dreams failed attempts at escaping. I thought I was brave. I thought. All I did was fall. Falling faster. Faster and faster. Torture is what I thought. I dreamed. Tears of blood, eyes of ice. Skin of snow. Dead. Knives and razors; my friend. Plasters and cotton wool my enemy. Words like blades. Dreams worse than reality. Freedom. Gone. Lost. Broken is all I am, a broken soul; I break a little more when I’m in my phase. I broke a little more. Scars. Cuts. Blood. All I love.  The day I loved them. My children. The day they leave I will be a little more broken. Dreams infallible. Screams and shouts. Pain. My best friend. My family. I am now free.

The ominous darkness that still envelops my body, dark tendrils waltzing across my body. My mind  fragile as it once was. They left me broken down; they think I’ll run back, my phase now over. My mind is now PURE. FREE. Knives and razors once my best friend now my enemy. Scars. Cuts. Blood. Things I used to love I now hate. The day they loved me. My children. The day they never left me. I can hold my peace as I sleep. Going deep. Deeper and deeper into sleep. I wake from my eternal sleep; it was all I dream. I’m still young. I’m still me. But that was my ESCAPE.

I am happy. I am Free. My nightmare finally over. All said and done, I’m a kid once again; waking up from my dream; my life is still incomplete. I’m free and me. People will be who they are. People will be who they want. I’m no longer in my depressed phase I am happy, because all the worries that I had are gone. When I was broken; when I wasn’t strong enough. When. When light erupts from darkness; no longer are dark tendrils waltzing, now there is a spark of fire ignited in my heart, they day I never had them. I was relieved. Now I am free; now I have escaped my deadliest nightmare. I was never old. I was never broken; I was just a kid with a deadly nightmare; that would never end.

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