It was difficult to get up today.

Ask me how many hours I slept. I wouldn’t be able to answer. 2 ? 14? 8! That’s the right number, isn’t it? It’s hard to tell anymore. It all seems to be one big blur, a never ending nightmare that decides by itself when it wants to continue and end, and that is not even the worst part. The worst is not being able to tell when it will slowly creep back up, or when I’ll start denying it even when it does. Sometimes, I have to ask myself, is it okay to be happy today? Or will I be forced to fight that losing battle again later on tonight? I do not know, and that makes me wonder if happiness is a thing I can truly obtain. That is when I remind myself, ‘Happiness is a choice’, and honestly, some days it helps, but most days, barely.

Ever since I was a kid, I remember being depressed and it makes me wonder, what is the evolutionary advantage of feeling like crap? How will it effect evolution? Technically, the brain plays a crucial role role in promoting survival, so the pressures of evolution should have left our brain resistant to such high rates of malfunction. Mental disorders should be rare — why isn’t depression? Check out this article on Depression’s Evolutionary Roots by Scientific American.

Sorry to digress, but I’ d like to apologize to all my friends and family beforehand. You might ask me before what? Well, before the mask I wear slowly starts to crack under the pressure of false smiles and years of fixed sentences designed to make you believe that everything is going absolutely perfect in my life. Before my facial expressions can no longer match the lies that I have been feeding both to you, and myself, and you see the sadness in my eyes, the one I’ve been hiding for so many years.

Before that heart of yours possesses you to ask me “What’s wrong?”, and my eyes instantly turn into a glare directed toward you and it seems like you’re the cause of my attitude. I promise you, you are not. I get infuriated when I get asked that question, not because you ask what’s wrong, but because that questions makes me realize that I don’t really understand what’s wrong myself even though I have been searching for an answer for years…

And on my journey I have found out quite a few things.

You’ll meet people who will say it’s all in my head. You should cut those people off immediately because obviously they don’t know where the brain is. Of course, of course it is in my head and it refuses to leave. You may start to also develop anxiety. This is not always the case, but it does happen sometimes. If depression was the blade that caused the wound, then anxiety would be the salt shoved in afterward. Such a sinister duo!

Depression can make you feel like you don’t want to do anything and then anxiety whispers in your ear that if you don’t do anything then you will fail at everything. The domino effect will be like a new religion for you. You will apply it to every aspect of your life. Oh, and the ones who say you are doing it for attention, well, you will simply learn to ignore them, because you know from experience that with the duo of depression and anxiety dancing inside your mind, panic attacks are your best friend, and the last thing you want is more attention for them while you are lying in bed or standing in the middle of a party Saturday night. It feels like you are dying in a coffin, made just for you.

One other phrase that irritates me is “I know exactly how you feel”. No. You don’t. Depression is unique to everyone, as is the solution. Some people people will respond better with antidepressants, some with simply finding someone they can talk to, some will experience it gradually and some instantly. In fact, I find my depression to be a little interesting because, sometimes, it happens slowly and other times it just…sorry… it seems my mask has finally broken, and honestly, I’m really tired right now, so I think I’m going to head to bed. Can’t wait to do this all over again, tomorrow.

Whispers To My Shadows

A digital photo-poetry zine that examines the poet's strifes with identity, oppression and mental health, and attempts to draw insight into the dichotomy of dark and light in hopes to start conversations around mental health. The zine was showcased at "Queer Futures Archive" at Parramatta's Riverside Theater, Sydney - as a part of "Burn All The Books That Call You The Unknown" exhibition in 2020.

Coming out soon.

Here's a preview.

The scars that you can't see

Have you ever taken the time to count your scars, the ones on your body? What about the ones within you—the ones that often hurt the most, the ones seared into your memory forever?

The thing about psychological and emotional scars is that they can't be seen, and some of them run deep—so deep that, at times, we fail to recognize them, and no matter how hard we try, they seem impossible to overcome. This is not to say it's impossible because some do find a way. Sadly, many don't; at least, not in time. Even though the pain rooted in our hearts and minds may pass, more often than not, the scar remains. Deep beneath the surface, it stays.

We all have scars that won't heal and won't stop hurting. Some fade and dull, while others stay bold and sharp. Some are easy to see or share, and some are not. Some scars force a negative emotional reaction or trigger an inability to handle certain events and behaviors. Some break us every day, like a never-ending nightmare. Some hide within us, patiently waiting for us to slip back. Some claw at the walls of our sanity, leaving us exposed. So, what do we do?

We create an exterior made up of lies to keep ourselves safe, while the inner wall continues to crumble a little each day. We try to heal it, or we learn to live with it, or worse, we get good at hiding it—so good that we convince ourselves it isn't even there. Until it regurgitates its poison and once again pulls out its dark, cold, and piercing claws that dig deep and affect our basic functionality and interaction with the world. Yet, we continue to walk through life with all this buried deep within us, without ever truly recovering from it. As a result, these scars get neglected and rarely receive proper understanding or empathy, continuing to destroy us bit by bit along the way. I wonder if this is human resilience or ignorance. You decide.

The point is, we are everywhere. You may have bumped into us on the street, in the gym, in the elevator, at your workplace. We may be someone in your family or your circle of friends. You may have seen us. You may even be us. So what will you do?

I personally have a strange relationship with my scars. Sometimes I see them. Sometimes I don't. Mostly, I just wish they were gone, but they are here to stay. They aren't going anywhere, at least not anytime soon. My scars cast a darkness so thick that I find it hard to find my way. I have no choice but to answer when this darkness calls my name. I may cover and hide, but I can't really escape. Sometimes it creeps up unexpectedly, rearing its ugly head, and I cringe at the sound of it, filling me quickly with dread. So quietly, so softly, it whispers my name and reminds me once more it is time for its sick little game. Old and familiar, the game remains the same. Over and over, the same hurtful exchange. The damage was done years ago in my youth, and I bleed from it now, no matter the truth. Bitter, unforgiving, always venomous and mad, this darkness destroys any sense of self that I have. So what am I going to do?

A part of me says, "Nothing," because it knows that somewhere lurks a new scar, waiting to be born and take its rightful place, and there is nothing I can do about it. I've tried to fight it time and again, but the results are always the same. So what can I really do? I will continue to be strong and carry on anyway, try to be true to myself, try to keep the monster at bay because I know that I must. I will continue to fight because I MUST! Sometimes, I feel that our survival instincts are starting to fail us miserably, but that's a thought for another day. In the meantime, I will write. I'll write the emotions that rage within me. I'll continue to fall and rise from this darkness I nurtured inside of me. I'll slowly learn to let go of these scars that hold and bind me, that sometimes paralyze me. I will let them rip me to shreds and then build myself up from it, again and again, until they lose all control over me. I will open up the wounds that gnaw at me and demand a truce with them before they consume me. I will place my faith in hope and wait until I don't overcome them or learn to embrace them so I can make peace with them. Granted that there is also a possibility that I might never triumph over this darkness, but there is comfort in knowing that the pain does subside a little, each passing day, it does subside.

So while I sit here wading, brooding in the depths of these thoughts, I can't help but wonder, what if these scars were visible? What if they could be seen as they formed? Would people be more cautious? What if our moods could be seen as colors? What color do you think we'd see the most? What if we could see the damage we cause? What if our thoughts could be seen as dark and light? What do you think would happen? Could it make a difference?

You decide.