Illustrating the Thoughts of a Depressed Mind

It was a cold night. The full moon shone brightly, its soft rays gleaming through the silky white curtains that swayed gently and quietly from side to side. The room had turned into a gallery of silhouettes, with soft shadows embellishing its floor and walls. The human brain is in constant search of amusement, acknowledgement and consolation from the world around. She had no other place but that room to seek all the amusement, acknowledgment and consolation she needed to survive. Oh, how the long hours of night can turn into an entrapment for the sleepless and the forlorn. As she lay unsleeping in bed, her eyes wandered around the silhouettes and shadows, desperately looking for a pattern that could distract her disheartened mind. That was her wishful thinking, which the world seems to conspire against day in, day out.

Every evening she would go home and undress herself, remembering to take off the pseudo façade she only wore outside the house. She wasn’t an artist of any sort; neither a con artist nor a performing one. Her reasoning made perfect sense and provided encyclopaedic justification. She had learned to keep to herself, simply because no one would care. She would try to make others feel appreciated, simply because she knows what it’s like to not feel loved. She stopped wearing her emotions on her sleeve, simply because they were never accepted or understood.

She was an ethereal prisoner who enjoyed unlimited corporal freedoms. You see, there are three aspects that define us and constitute how we function: heart, mind and body. While the world can clearly witness your liveliness, it can easily be mistaken for happiness. No one can truly see the thoughts that occupy your mind, the ache that pierces your heart, or the weight you carry on your shoulders. Sometimes even the closest people to you can’t seem to understand what you hide inside.

She was a troubled soul who suffered years of distress and solitude, the latter being by experience and choice. All she wanted was to break free from the monstrous chains and restraining sensations enforced by her mind and heart. These chains and sensations were illusory and uncalled-for, but she couldn’t block them out. The arbitrary and extreme bouts of anxiety, depression and heartache had amplified over the years, and it was becoming more and more difficult to escape them.

It seemed as though she was living in another dimension, her poor soul wandering desperately in search of a sprouting seed in a barren land. She could see the real world through a separating glass wall, but couldn’t get through to the other side. The glass was tainted with a mix of handprints and tears that had hardened along the years. Often times she would frantically scream and call out for help, never to be heard or noticed. She would press her face on the glass and helplessly pound at it as her warm tears ran down her cheeks. Still unheard and unnoticed, she would retreat to her own world and, once again, search for hope – in a sprouting seed.

Alas, she realised that she had no choice but to gracefully accept what she was given. It had been 402 months. She could not leave that barren land or enter the real world. In fact, that real world was only an illusion that she had to forget. She was not going to find a sprouting seed; that too was a delusion. She had to learn to live peacefully with the demons in her head and endure the pain buried deep inside her heart. Her daydreams and night revelations were all she had to comfort her; they, too, were figments of her imagination. The fact that she had lived through 12,247 tormenting days and daunting nights meant that she was a survivor. She had the strength and audacity to live to tell her tale, an achievement that should make her proud.

At the break of dawn, she slowly turned to face the window on the right side of her bed. Despite her fear of the dark, the coming of twilight gave her faith and gestured for the near arrival of the sun. In the same manner that the buzzing of trumpets and rumbling of drums pronounced the homecoming of victorious troops. The mightiest of all cosmic stars shall soon arrive and declare its victory over the bloodcurdling night. The sun shall once again shine, its fiery waves awakening the world and driving life at full thrust. Its warmth and brightness would pierce through the glass wall and fill her world with hope and liveliness. Her crestfallen status would soon be overtaken by the promise of a new day.