It's hard,
you know?

Being depressed I mean.

Laying down at night
alone,
or not
and just thinking.

A teacher once told me that writing
isn't about how you feel
it's about how you think

and I think that I am tired of this.
I think that I am ready to shed this skin
once and for all
and evolve.

My life is nothing special.
I am simply
average

But my life is beautiful
in that in my suffering
in my darkest hour
there is a light that shines
through the darkness

I think that we are all evolving
towards our perfected selves
while our body slowly decays.

It is hard
to be depressed.
To feel the weight of the world
crushing your chest
To think that you could die
right here
right now
and it wouldn't matter

To think that this moment
means nothing
and that you are
insignificant
because you are
in the grand scheme of things

But it doesn't have to be that way.