Today was another depressing day. I tried to let it slip by, sleeping as much as I could to escape the weight of it all. But when evening comes, sleep doesn’t. I lie awake, restless, with nothing to occupy my time. I cannot go out, so I stay confined to my room, the lights turned off, staring out the small window that offers a glimpse of the world beyond. It’s a small, fleeting connection to something outside these walls.
My mother and father came to my room again tonight. They stood in the doorway and told me they think I’m slipping into “deep depression.” I couldn’t hold back. “Why do you think that is?” I shouted, the frustration boiling over. “You’re keeping me like a prisoner here!” My mother’s response? She threatened to lock my door from the outside, to keep me in. I asked her, how long she plans to keep me trapped in this house. “For years” she said.
The words lingered as I sat in the darkness, wondering how much longer I can bear this.
