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Picture of DepressionIf I Could DrawThe picture would be of a lone heart, droopy, swinging somewhere away from everyone else.In the woods on an old, homemade swing hanging from a huge tree.And my heart would be looking down and holding onto the ropes beside it.It would be lost of color, and grey.
HelpJanuary 28, 2015I mentioned my therapy appointment today.Grandma - "What about the anger?"Mom never fails to ask "Did they say anything about your moods?"Boyfriend - "You get mad over the smallest things so quickly."My sisters and father are the only ones who don't mention such.I'm feeling hopless and worthless. I don't see what they see, besides my boyfriends comment, that I can see.I have been called mean my whole life. It is hard to live around people who think of the past me, the me that *was* "mean" to my sisters. I'm not her anymore. I am sensitive and react defensively. I wish they knew the difference between acting and reacting, the idiots.The mental pain and fucked up self-image of myself they have personally carved over and over into the deepest depths of my psyche is an inexcusable eternal hell.Help.
FireI don't like to burn my bridgesBut I'd rather keep my distanceFrom you on the other side
Please Leave, and Never Come BackTormented, tortured, stalked, haunted.These are a few words that I would describe how I feel in my dreams at night.When I am in another state, another world and vulnerable to the subconscious mind that does as it pleases and all you can do is watch, feel, do whatever it wants you to.I wake with a start, a gasp. My eyes fling wide open and I sternly, accidentally talk out loud, in my waking state, to the tormentor in my dreams; "But that's how it feels!", a response I make to her when she says "I don't hate you."My heart breaks again, I hold the tears back, I silently repeat the phrase that's supposed to bring consolation. The only phrase I've used for all the years she has visited me - "It's just a dream, it's just a dream." My heart still beats irregularly fast. I try to calm down. I feel pity towards myself.My mother never specifically did the things in the waking world that she does in my dreams. She haunts me and hurts me in those dreams. She is relentless. She pries an