Depression is a never ending black hole.
Often I feel like I'm on the edge trying to climb out but the black hole is thick and it's weighing me down.
I see reality and I want to be in it but the force of the black holes increasing in strength, I know I need help.
I know I have to be stronger and move fast before the black hole swallows me.
Sometimes it's a fight for my life..........
The ink of my pen is my blood. Every drop heals my wound. Even though you can tie my body but you can't tie my soul...I write what I want to write... no sugar coats,no romanticism... what I say is what I feel...I can't just talk about the pretty things in life. There's a lot of ugly things and in betweens. I think age is making me more honest and comfortable with my thoughts.
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