Her reflection in the shattered mirror shows the broken soul, the jagged edges wanting desperately to join as one and heal the wounds that only she can see.
The eyes filled deeply with sorrow, the smile disguising the pain that fills her broken, damaged heart.
The wounds cut deep, an explosion of emotion sets off inside her, yet her body lays still as she drifts to sleep.
The darkness and fog in her head lays quiet, no hint of clarity, nor coloured brightness above her. Silent Dark grey clouds where her thoughts once spoke.
Nothing left of a soul that once shone brightly to those around her, the soul destroyed and lifeless, has lost all hope that the pieces can be put back together. The damage is done, complete, the pieces left to rot in what feels like a lonely unknown grave.
There is nothing left to feel.
Emotionless.
Worn out, exhausted, inept.
Devoid of any ability to feel.
The WANT to end the darkness has gone.
The NEED to end the darkness remains, despite hanging over the cliff edge, ready to drop into the abyss, the struggle to hold on by a fingernail is strong, now to start pulling herself up.
True strength is the ability to climb, rather than fall.
This is just part of the depression experience.
Strength will prevail, the story will not finish here.
;
Through the eyes of a fat chick 