spinygabor

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Alone by Blacksand459, literature

Literature

Alone

Animated shadows flickered against the walls As voices softly burbled from the TV In the darkened basement. Outside, snow fell softly, Unheard yet felt in the soul. As though the snow was an emissary From a wonderful, antique land, Debonair and timeless. Inside, wrapped in warm sweaters And flannels, Enveloped in the scents of Christmas, The dry tinge of the knotty pine paneling, The dryer sheet tumbling around, And the soft shampoo scent of her hair. And it all fades to black... Where is she, tonight? Is she standing there, out in the world, Wondering what's going on? Most likely not. She'll be watching reruns of Jersey Shore, Whil

Depression Isn't Real by MikkiMarie, literature

Literature

Depression Isn't Real

Depression isn’t true, my dear Depression isn’t real. It’s just a silly tragedy You’ve forced yourself to feel. Anxiety is fake, my friend You wonder why it’s there. But others have it worse than you! Stop forming false despair. Cutting is dramatic, love, It’s ugly, and it’s dumb. Why not just get over it? Is the attention fun? Suicide is stupid, dear, And selfish, if I may. Get over yourself, darling, Can you hear these things I say? Why aren’t you replying, love? Oh, where could you have gone? I never meant to hurt you, love, Did I say something wrong? Why aren’t you replying, dear