I am terrified of the silence. 

As children of mothers with depression, we have to teach ourselves how to cry because there is danger in the sadness. It feels like giant cavern that could swallow me whole, a darkness that I might never escape. So I flitter around saying, I’m fine! I’m fine! and going to parties and talking and drinking…

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Moving on.

Sometimes you get an email on a random Tuesday that’s really a box of venom and darkness. And it’s from someone you can’t block. So you write. Not back to them. But to yourself. Just because you disgust one person, doesn’t mean you are disgusting. You are light. You are fire. Burn, baby. Moving on.…

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