“You know why the cat has started sleeping on your bed, don’t you?” My mum said. “It’s because he knows you’re not well.” It hadn’t even occurred to me, so wrapped up in my grief have I been.
I tried to write a poem before. I wanted to write about this depression. But the only lines that made any sense were ‘give her back to me,’ ‘the bluntness of this existence,’ and ‘an audience for this nightmare.’
The loneliness of this experience is like nothing I’ve ever struggled through before. I check my phone for signs of life so often I feel disgusted with myself. Several times a day I’ll Google ‘depression has taken everything,’ or something like that, and I’ll click onto the Reddit forums or Quora. I’ll see, I’ll see other people are suffering, but a little voice whispers ‘you’re all alone in this…’ and I’ll believe it.