Trapped in Depression. The Authors Collection

Trapped in the pain of being alone and feeling alone. Photo from Lori's Song.
Trapped in the pain of being alone and feeling alone. Photo from Lori’s Song.

I AM HONORED to present another moving piece written by Keely Keziah Passmore.  She’s  a freshman at Enka High School in western North Carolina and told me, “I have been writing a lot for the past four years. I have found writing to be a creative way to express myself and share my thoughts. I would love to become an author because writing is my passion.”

She has a lot of talent for one so young.

***

Have you ever felt like you were slipping? Like you were slipping across a frozen lake? And you know that once you reach the middle, where the ice is thinner than your resolve for life, that it has become inevitable.

You will fall in. You keep slipping until the ice cracks beneath you. You don’t move as the freezing water swallows you, as the shards of ice jab at you and you are no longer able to fend for yourself. You can’t swim or drown. You are freezing but cannot die. You realize helplessly that you are all alone. There are no fish or anything that once resembled life anywhere close to you. Such things don’t exist where you have fallen in.

You don’t mind though. You have gotten used to being alone. You have gotten used to lying in the dark staring at the nothingness that fills the empty crevices of your so-called life.

Stillness around you makes you feel claustrophobic and your lungs ache as you strain to hold your breath until the last possible second. As you strain to keep inside the last bit of life you have left, in hopes someone will save you in time.

The truth is that no one has even noticed that you are gone. You can feel your body slowly being frozen by the water’s icy depths. You can feel Death’s frigid fingers wrapping around your throat. You would do anything to make it stop. To make the cold that consumes your soul stop. You can’t. You would rather die, but you can’t, because day by day, hour by hour, second by second, you become less, less of a person less of yourself, less of everything.

You become less of everything until you aren’t anything. You don’t realize it, but once you start slipping you can’t stop. Once you start slipping there is nothing to hold onto.

Not even yourself because, that too is lost.

FCEtier is author of The Tourist Killer.

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