Whispers and the Roars

by K. Webster

I was a fungus. Growing and festering. Turning his brilliant parts black with the disease otherwise known as me. When you’re a woman who suffers from depression and PTSD, among other disorders, you learn that you’re the problem. That you’re the source of nightmares. That you’re a black plague who only sickens the well around you.

I can relate to this on every level. I suffer from the same illnesses and it took me a very long time before i realized that i shouldnt feel this way. That im WORTHY!

The music is an extension of my pain and sadness. A direct view into the mind of a woman who has spent an entire lifetime attempting to forget injustices served against her.

Depression is a part of my life. Some days, it just swallows me whole. I lie in bed for hours and hours just like Momma used to do. Hiding from the outside world. Hiding from my reflection. Replaying the negative parts of my life over and over again on some torturous loop. It’s not something I simply get over. It consumes me.

“I love you at your best and I love you at your worst. I love every single part of you. I always have and always will. I even love the parts I hate about you. How fucking weird is that? And I’ll continue to love you in every capacity, no matter how strange that makes me. I’ll fill in the missing voids of your heart with parts of mine,” he whispers while his cock still twitches inside me. “Together, we’ll be whole. I love you, Kadence Marshall. Please marry me.”