inside the mind of a depressed soul

You can not really lie to your mother. My mom knows when I'm sick, when I'm not myself. I dont have to have deep conversations with her. Just the sound of my voice is enough to tell her everything. 

I have not been myself in a while now. Every day I wake up to the question why am I here? 

Iv been a Christian for decades but Christ seems to be a saviour for someone else but me. The reason being the fire I once had has been put out.. You can just conform to an idea for the longest time until you realise you can't really buy into it any more. Something is just not right... Maybe my faith is not.. 

Seeing people are a pain.. How do you step out of the room when there's nothing you can relate to in the outside world any more?. 

What seemed to be a delight to me dont feel the same any more. Whether it be Music, books art or any piece of craft that draws my attention. 

Iv been struggling with severe depression for more than a decade. I was convinced that I could get through this, and that I was healed. But off late truth has been sinking in. 

The pain  and severity of depression is real as it has been for me. 

There are some days when life seems so full of fun, I make a joke out of everything. Just to numb my pain, just to tell myself that my struggles are just for that time and that id get through it.. 

My life has been screaming: HELP... 

It's been there for as long as I remember.. 

But I could feel that my cries have been drowned out because instead I see a world so engrossed in living for their tomorrow. 

Everyone lives for their own self, for their own survival , and for the ones that matter most to them. 

As for me : Il always be that child in front of that candy store, with no money or anyone to buy that for her. 

Iv always been told how my life exists only because iv been promoted by grace. 

Iv been left  with nothing but a terribly sick heart and a weighed down mind. 

The Loud Roar of a deafening Silence

The deed was done

There was no one to cry out any more

The crime committed

The person dead

Or rather the person silenced

Who will cry out for justice to be served? 

But yet the silence of the dead  and the abused been heard echoing through a loud roar

Even in that defeaning silence... 

What can I make of it.. 

Why is the world so cold.. 

Why is my heart so cold? 

The Abyss of Silence...

Fighting pain alone

My heart feels like solid stone

 Terrible things that seem like yesterday

Taunt me night and day

Things that seem to beyond my control

To fix it is no longer my goal

In a world where I can no longer kind to myself

I just want to be tucked away in some unknown shelf

Angry at a world I don't want to be in

I feel like there is no end to my feelings of sin

Whether it be rage, insecurity or hate

All these feel bitter to my taste

My heart feels heavy and devoid of any more feeling

The test is when I feel so challenged to no longer believe in my healing

My Faith badly shaken and my vision so clouded

Demons that taunt leaving me in a place  where I feeling so hounded

Do I stay in this place where I'm left so hopeless? 

Or do I step up so that I fight that feeling of being useless? 

Does it always have to be me doing things to be distracted? 

Because in doing so my pain never seems less subtracted

I think it's best I stay away from a world that leaves me feeling cold

It's time I search after something more valuable like gold

Il wait for that gold digger to search me out

As I stay hidden in the soil waiting to be taken out..... 

It's been more than a decade.. Iv struggled with severe depression.. For me it was a green eyed monster that tried to swallow me when I was alone.. By day I would have the smile that would light up someones world.. But in reality even though I lived in this world I just felt like I was  living in the dark and distant from life around. 

My parents turned to being born again Christians shortly after I was born... And that's how I grew up in church, went to services with them. Somebody gifted me a children's bible when I was small, I would just be mesmerised by that book and I was introduced to a world where I would be walking through the deserts and the garden.. There was something really intriguing and spectacular and so often times part of my troubled childhood was spent burying myself in a world that seemed so mysterious yet enchanting. 

My best friend in school was a girl called Reem who was a Bahraini Muslim  . She was blonde and beautiful. I had another girl called Shahani too who was Pakistani. Although I was an Indian and from Kerala I had no clue about my indian roots growing up in Bahrain. 

As a child I just loved reading and craft and anything that had alot of details and colour  . 

My eyes would be drawn to anything that would stand out in a room. And so on other days I would just spend time playing with dolls, collecting bits of paper.. ( That was my strange habit.)