I have this theory about how sadness works
I won’t call it depression whose definition changes with each publication.
I’m talking about sadness like numbness, like replaying dreams in your head because something about reality feels like too much like a nightmare
Until you start having actual nightmares.

Maybe a better term for it is loneliness because I’m the only one trapped in the curved walls, in these four walls, everything feels like walls. I do not text the cute guy back, I do not let him kiss me goodnight. I am too afraid of heights. Or maybe I’m afraid the fall will be all it takes to never get back up again. Or maybe I want him to try climbing over the walls, want to see him take a sledgehammer to the bricks with no regard for the damage. Maybe I just want to see a beautiful destruction. I am so tired of the ugly way my sanity is held together.

I do not know how I got here. Do not know why it gets harder to breathe every single day. But I have this theory about how sadness works.

You see, I was born into survival mode, grew up in house made of glass shards and walked through its hallways every night without leaving bloodstains on the carpet. When the first person I was supposed to love held my nose and tried to make me swallow the revulsion and disgust that spilled out of her own mouth, I did not let any of it inside. But I cried until I learned how to turn heart to stone and how to burn love out of blood, until I learned some pain was better than others. Until I learned that no one came for little girls without battle mark bruises on their skin, whose only scars were the cries of help she gave herself.

I grew up in survival mode, eyes always forward, counting down the years and months until freedom came in the form of a college dorm room. And I thought myself so strong when I made it.

Until I stopped being able to get out of bed. Until I cried in showers and didn’t know why. Until all the ice melted away, adrenaline fading from my veins, and I tried to hold things together with duct tape and quiet tears.

I have this theory about how sadness works
Or at least, how my sadness works.
When you are running from something your whole life, mile after mile, year after year, your legs only know the movement. And when you finally can stop, plant your two feet on solid ground, it is only a matter of time before you collapse.