Okay

I feel lost in my thoughts. I feel like I can’t open my eyes for fear that my worries are my reality. I feel like I’m wandering through the dessert with my depression on my back.
But it’s going to be okay.
I’ve been thinking about killing myself, lately. I said thinking, not planning, but who knows how thin that line is. Good days are simply absent of bad thoughts, and bad days are mental anguish. The world seems without light at the moment, and I can feel the darkness I carry on my back.
But it’s going to be okay.
I walk alone now carrying this darkness. Every time my brain gets full of what could have been, the idea of an escape as fast as a trigger pull feels ever more like a good idea. At least then the load wouldn’t be so heavy. In fact, it would be weightless.
But it’s going to be okay.
Depression makes the act of living painful. If I could turn these feelings off I gladly would, but it seems the only way to do that is to shut down the whole operation.
But it’s going to be okay.
These days without sun blend together in a weave of loneliness. I could be lost in a sea of people, and I would still feel like I’m drowning in isolation.
But it’s going to be okay.
My heart feels like it shrinks with every rotation of the sun. I feel like I’m going to fall into the hole that it leaves behind. I shut out the days keeping my eyes closed and wait for night.
But it’s going to be okay.
If I went through with it, I would hurt a lot of people in ways that my breathing self could not imagine.
But it’s going to be okay.
I owe it to them to carry this darkness so as to not add onto theirs.
But it’s going to be okay.
I don’t think I can keep going.
But it’s going to be okay.
I don’t think it’s going to be okay.
But it’s going to be okay.
I’m so goddamn tired.
But it’s going to be okay.
And when the dark finally comes to a close, and the sun wraps around the horizon once again, if I choose to open my eyes I’ll look around and see all those people were around me the whole time sharing this load without my permission. And they were patiently whispering:
But it’s going to be okay.
And I’ll see that without even realizing it, I was doing the same for them.
It’s going to okay.
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Maybe

From our points of view I think we see ourselves akin to broken pieces once belonging to a much bigger puzzle. Though, I can only speak for myself, maybe we feel separated from the rest of the picture, cast adrift to orbit the collected canvas painted with the pieces of other people.
Maybe, our pieces drift back and forth, bumping into the other, more rounded ones unable to fit due to our jagged edges.
Maybe, the very edges that keep us from connecting to the rest of the puzzle make us beautiful.
Maybe, it attracts us to them, colliding jagged with round and creating more and more uneven peaks and verges.
Maybe, broken pieces do more harm to each other. Jagged grinding jagged in search of a proper fit, making the future search for both pieces ever more painful.
Maybe, while caught in everyone’s rotation, luck will have us collide with each other, you and I.
And maybe, just maybe our broken edges will fit together like puzzle pieces, and we’ll forget the two if us are floating free from the rest of the picture.