She Just Wants to Forget (What She Felt) (Volume 2)

by R.H. Sin

she screamed pain with silence she wore heartache with a smile

how strange it is that you can be brought to life with the first kiss and destroyed by the last

only fools tell writers what to write only a fool would believe that they could control the writer’s voice they’ll carry their opinions they’ll critique while filled with rage and frustration because that fool has no power in the face or in the presence of a writer

What if this depression I feel is somehow a gift wrapped in something society taught me to be afraid of? What if this sadness is only a symbol of how clearly I see the world and all its occupants? What if this sadness is a symbol of how well adjusted I am? I pose these lines as questions because it’s more relatable to ask questions than to make statements that don’t fit under the set standard of the world we live in as if we’re not allowed to think or see things differently and so we hide our truths behind hypotheticals. We’ve relied on the information of others for so long that we’ve drowned out our own facts and ideas. We’re a collection of people who have given strangers the power to define us against a list of things that some of us were never meant to be, keeping us from what we desire to become. Relying on a diagnoses to better explain a truth that only we ourselves are capable of understanding.