Night Shifts Black

Trust me, when people think you’re worth something to them, you will suddenly be their top priority.” “Worth

No one can do life completely alone. We’re not supposed to.” He

It all starts with believing in yourself,” I echo dryly. His eyes narrow. “No, that’s a lie. It starts with accepting yourself. You can’t believe in what you don’t understand. And if you’re still telling people you’re no one, then you don’t understand yet.

Depression, that is,” I continue. “People who’ve never experienced it think it’s a mask, but it’s not. It’s a curtain. And when it falls, it shuts you off from your life, plunging you into complete darkness. There you stand, arms flailing around you, reaching for anything to find your way back. But after exhausting yourself, grasping at only more darkness, you give up and drop to the floor in resignation. “And so you sit. You and the blackness. You and the accusations. You and the self-hatred, the lies that become truth, the failure and pain and hopelessness and black thoughts that twist through you, impaling you to the floor. There you bleed, alone in your black hole, convinced the audience on the other side of the curtain has given up and gone home. The show is over. “Before you know it, you realize the curtain has turned into a cement wall, and you couldn’t escape the darkness even if you wanted to, but by now you don’t care anymore. What’s the point? There’s nothing waiting for you on the other side, and even if there was, you’re such a useless waste of space that you wouldn’t dare to contaminate the world outside with your cancer anyway.” I stop, my eyes burning, my voice heavy in my throat. “You feel like crying all the time but you rarely do. Depression isn’t sadness; it’s numbness. You don’t have the energy for sadness. You can’t sleep. You don’t eat. You have no desire for the things you used to love, but it doesn’t matter because you can’t love anyway. You feel nothing, just a dull, heavy ache that makes it hard to breathe sometimes, let alone get up to start the search again. You fantasize about disappearing, just erasing your pointless existence and sparing the Earth from your toxic presence. By now you’re so exhausted just from the effort of living that there’s nothing left to live it.” I

I formed a string of letters together. This is what words do. So often they tear apart, but they can also form miracles. They

wondering what it would be like to live in parallel with everyone around you. To know that they only see you for what they think you are. To not be able to truly connect with your own existence.

It starts with accepting yourself. You can’t believe in what you don’t understand. And if you’re still telling people you’re no one, then you don’t understand yet.

Burgers. But not just any burger. Here, try this.” I’m expecting tin foil wrapped mounds to come out of the fancy bag, but instead they’re extravagant boxes of some kind. Probably high-end organic, recycled cardboard originally harvested from sustainable seaweed beds or something.

No one can do life completely alone. We’re not supposed to.

formed a string of letters together. This is what words do. So often they tear apart, but they can also form