She told me she loved me, that I was her best friend.
She told me I was her other half, that I was her sister, her soul mate.
I told her I was unstable, that my brain wasn’t right.
I told her I loved her more than anything, that my depression was getting worse, that she didn’t have to stay.
But she stayed. She stayed until she didn’t understand.
I didn’t have the words to make her feel what I felt, and I didn’t want to, even though I’d seen her there before. I held her all night while she sobbed and giant tears rolled out of her heavy eyes and onto the floor.
I am stuck inside of a padlocked box or I would reach out to her. I think I locked myself in a long time ago and threw away the key. I had to protect her from my emptiness. I think it’s contagious.
I know I started sleeping a lot, or trying to sleep a lot, but it wasn’t because I was tired.
When I am asleep, or when I can sleep, I’m a warrior, fighting off the demons that are chasing me and trying to stop the car that loses control no matter how many times I slam on the brakes.
When I am asleep, I am a fighter. When I can sleep, I have to be a fighter, so when I wake up, I am more exhausted than I was when I laid my head down to rest, but the worst nightmares always happen when my eyes are open.
I know I am hollow. I started fading faster than she could catch me, so I started destroying her expectations.
You can’t let anyone down if you never built them up in the first place.
I changed my status to a state of mediocrity that could make anyone feel special. I emptied myself of every promising potential to make her feel fuller, but my aura started radiating desolation rather than Ocean-Blue.
I was standing right in front of her. I wonder if she’d felt more lonely with me than when I was away.
I know I’m manic. I’m only one more aberrant “a” away from maniac, and it doesn’t look too distant, so a part of me is glad that she departed when she did.
And another part of me wants to be selfish and make her come back. I can put on a mask for her.
I can try to put a mask on for her.
I’ve never been able to put on a mask for anyone.
I don’t love her any less because I’m depressed, but I don’t think she’s able to wrap her head around that, and I don’t blame her.
The last time I saw her, she asked me where the light in my eyes went, and I told her they had been stolen by the jealousy of the stars. That’s how bright they used to be, but now my pupils are part of a constellation.
I know you’re far away, and I know you miss how I used to be.
Introduced to the realities of the world at an early age, Leah Barker is a self-made writer and blogger for Capturing the Corners. Her main goal is to spread hope and awareness for those suffering from terminal illnesses (particularly Huntingtons Disease), but she also writes on subjects such as suicide, child abuse, and other sensitive topics. The stories she writes mostly originate from her own life experiences, but she also composes fiction and poetry. Take a look at her writings to catch a glimpse of narratives that are kept behind closed doors and need to be brought to light.