The Sadness That Heralds.

It’s crippling, like a merciless cancer.

It forces a paralysing display within your mind, demanding, commanding that you fixate on your ugliness and inabilities.

It’s inexplicable - This emotion so capable of leaving you so utterly powerless and alone. Afraid. Terrified.

You’re left isolated with your own mind - a beguiling assassin, adept at self-destruction and demoralising your self worth.

Swiftly you start to pull away from others as rationality becomes but a blurred memory to you,

illusive voices whisper incessantly in your ear, their lies driving you towards unhappiness,

and uncertainly becomes your daily ballad, a miserable symphony of loneliness as you one day fall to the ground.

But then you find you cannot get back up.

Hesitance becomes a constant as you lay there, hands curling themselves, mimicking comfort,

but then you see it, a glimpse. No.

you’re mistaken yet again.

But something catches the corner of your sad stained eyes – Hope.

A helpless sob catches in your throat as you gather what little strength left and begin dragging yourself forward over brutally sharp insecurities.

Overly pronounced doubts tear into your skin, ripping into any possible reasonable thought, creating harsh siphons of red as they break off and burrow deep.

You see a figure, a friend perhaps and immediately you’re caught between returning to that irrepressible urge to hide or to face the judgemental gladiatorial arena.

You look away, back into the gloom and mourn. It shouldn’t feel so familiar.

One last tear slips from your parched eyes and you half-heartedly reach behind you in one last torturous attempt to be saved. Your hand bloodied and broken.

You stop.

And shadowy cowardice slams you to the floor once again.

what if they don’t understand?

what if i’m over reacting?

what if they don’t like me?

Crippling.

But a hand takes yours in a gentle ripple of concern.

Compassion folds around you and you feel lighter as if a candle had been lit in a dusty corner.

Arms lift you up slowly begin to cradle you,

What’s wrong Darling? What's wrong?

Heaviness crashes into your beaten body once again, a damaged vessel for your mind – now a mere fragment of your past self.

You try to reach out but your strength has drowned, only allowing the vaguest of movements.

Your lips open and you stutter in helpless articulation - Myriads of commas, full stops and semi colons stumbling from your mouth in a pathetic explosion of emotional desperation.

Yet you hope.

Because that’s all you have left.

but how could they possibly understand? when you barely understand it yourself.

Here you can see but a glimpse of the real thing.