my first death.

It was normal Wednesday night.

The Earth didn’t break in half, the sky didn’t fall down and the wave didn’t hit my house.

But it might as well have.

If you’ve dealt with depression you may know this feeling, if you haven’t you can’t possibly imagine it.

I didn’t know at first what happenned. The light has gone and I was surrounded by the sudden darkness. And the Sun has been rising since then but it stopped reaching me. I found myself in a constant shadow.

And you know, it’s been hard before but I’ve always had this childish fire of hope inside of me - the one that was getting me through the day and making me believe that things will get better.

But the matches were taken away from me and I cannot light it up anymore.

It takes everything in me to get up each day. Sometimes I don’t. I just let things happen to me. I stopped living, I started existing.

I go out to people and I’m the life of the party.

Then the party is over and so am I.

I try to catch breath but I have all these worries on my chest. I try to sleep but I don’t want the morning to come. I try to think about future but I can’t even imagine tomorrow.

And it’s another sleepless night when I try to rewind my footsteps and see when did I turn into the wrong way. The way that led me slowly and quietly out of my life. I think of that day.

It was normal Wednesday night.