Depression takes Tisha B’Av as an invitation to tangle your brain waves into a tumbleweed of destruction. Depression is flirting with you under a red light, providing some anonymous sense of comfort but no real manoach.
People will pretend like they are happy for you, but when you are twenty-two, sometimes people will look at you as if you have thrown your whole life away. How dare you try to balance a family and yourself? Why is “me” not a part of my family?
She, who is fearless, who walks out of the wilderness feral-shouldered and unbroken.
Your every step can’t help but grind riots of inquiry into the dusty dirt.
Because sometimes you write your story down, even though you'd rather just scream.
The other half of the story and how much we still don't know.
There is an oceanic pain-knowing, a tide no soul should ever be made to swim against.
This hunger is what is meant to keep our hearts beating.
I’m talking directly to the tiny little you who lives inside of you.
